


Star-Crossed Lovers

by SilverFountains



Series: ARCHIVED WORKS [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, M/M, Non-Canonical Violence, Thorin's coronation, Threats of Violence, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS STORY HAS BEEN ARCHIVED AND REPUBLISHED AS PART OF LOFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct follow on from Lofn part 1 - Soulmates and to make sense these should be read in order. This has been split into a series to compliment the appropriate warning tags without giving the storyline away. 
> 
> Warning  
> Part 2 will be much more angst than part 1
> 
> Please remember this is fanfiction. Where I have stayed true to Tolkien in places, in others I have altered events and dates to suit this story.

Thorin had changed, Dwalin noted. Kili had changed him.

He had known Thorin and Dis since they were cossets. Dwalin’s parents were blessed dwarves, umùradûnh, and so he and his brother had grown up in the soul quarters in Azsâlul'abad. As such, unlike for most cossets, their father had been in their lives even during their early years before their coming of age. Fundin had been Thrain’s best friend and one of King Thor’s tactical advisors. He often took his sons with him on his visits to the royal quarters to play with the two princes and princess Dis. And so it had come to be that the five of them had all spent most of youth together.

Dwalin and Thorin in particular were very close with less than a year between them. Some days Dwalin thought of Thorin more as his brother than Balin as they were so similar in temperament. As cossets they had both been the troublemakers of their respective families, always getting themselves and each other into trouble. It was hard to imagine sometimes that Thorin was the second in line to the throne. Frerin was the quiet one, the sensible and contemplative one. A quick learner and an excellent student, like Balin was. Like Fili is. When Dis’ eldest had been born Dwalin had been struck by the boy’s resemblance to Thorin’s youngest brother. And the likeness had only been amplified over time as Fili grew into a young lad, not just in looks but even more so in character. How he always cared for others; always put everyone else’s happiness and well-being before his own needs.

Young Thorin on the other hand had been restless and adventurous, always eager to explore the world rather than read about it. So very much like Kili. His royal tunics suffered much as he never hesitated to get them soiled with blood and mud, much to Thrain’s exasperation. He learnt to wield an axe and sword well before he was supposed and allowed to and most days came home with new cuts and bruises. Dwalin received as much punishment from Fundin for his own misbehaviour as he did for Thorin’s, as he held him accountable for the crown prince’s well-being. But Dwalin suffered it gladly most days. Being with Thorin was fun, exciting, daring and one big adventure.

Dis as the middle child and the only girl between the five of them, had quickly taken on the rule of judicator in their boyish quarrels. Dwalin had learnt not to mess with her from a very young age as despite her short frame, she was strong both in mind and body and took no crap from any of the boys. All four of them had been on the receiving end of her punishing hands, yanking their hair and twisting their ears. But she too had a mischievous streak in her and whereas Dwalin and Thorin were too brazen to hide their troublemakings, Dis was clever as a fox and somehow managed to get away with more than the boys ever did.

Ah, such delightful memories. The halls of Azsâlul'abad in those days were ringing with the delightful noises of labour. Dwalin remembers it well. The smell of iron. The sound of the bellows blowing heat into the furnaces. And the joyous singing of those working to enrich the House of Durin. It had been good to grow up in the kingdom during those days of affluence. And the five of them did not have a care in the world.

When Dwalin came of age he had made the most of the year that he was considered an adult when the young prince was not. He had spent the best part of that year teasing Thorin, telling him about the weapon training he was enjoying, how he had learnt to forge his first sword and of course his various amorous escapades. And Thorin had got himself very excited about the day that he would be required to complete the fire ritual and finally become a buck. How he had gleamed with wonder about that day that he would have been able to court his first mate. And although they had never spoken about it out loud, Dwalin had always known that had life continued at its normal pace that it would have been him.

But then Smaug had come …

Dwalin remembers it as if it were yesterday. The rumbling noise that had hit the valley of Dale at the foot of Azsâlul'abad like an avalanche. Thorin’s anguished warning cry. And the immediate searing heat that followed. Dwalin’s heart had stopped dead at the moment as he thought that his brother and best friend had been burned alive by the dragon’s flame. It was only when he saw them re-appear, running towards him, Thorin shouting instructions at those around them, that his heart had started to beat again. They had held each other in a brotherly embrace for but a moment before all hell had broken lose.

If he closes his eyes he can still smell the burning flesh, the dying cries of his dwarven brothers and sisters as the dragon crashed through the gates, destroying their once grand home for good. How they all escaped with their lives he is still unsure. Thorin had run deeper inside the mountain to look for Frerin and Dis and he and Balin had chased after him. To all their relief they had found them both safe with Thrain in the throne room and Thorin had urged Dwalin to lead them to safety while he went to look for Thror, whom Thrain had said had taken the Arkenstone to lock it away in the royal treasury.

When they had finally breathed in the fresh air and Balin had led the royal family to safety, Dwalin had immediately turned around and gone back inside to look for Thorin. By then the halls were thick with acrid smoke, stinging his lungs upon every in-breath. Dwarves were crashing into him from all sides in a desperate attempt to flee the inferno as Dwalin tried to push his way upstream through the exiting mass.

It was then that he had found them. Fundin and Laki, his parents, forever locked in each other’s embrace. The heat from the dragon’s belly had been so sudden and so intense that they like so many others around them as been cinched on the very spot that they had drawn their last breath. As he had turned away, tears in his eyes and bile boiling up in his stomach, he had fallen straight into the prince’s embrace. And between them they had dragged Thror kicking and screaming out of his mountain kingdom, as their home went up in flames behind them.

And it was on that day that the mischievous sparkle had vanished from Thorin’s eyes for good.

They had spent many months on the road, hungry and exhausted. Many were injured and many did not make it on their long journey all the way south of the woodlands, across the Great River and even further south through Rohan until eventually they had settled in the hills of Dunland. But life had been difficult there. The losses still too raw in their minds, the once cheerful folk of Durin had become solemn and bitter. Songs once sung about gold, food and ale were now about fire, destruction and death. And the formerly cheeky dwarf prince now watched his proud father and grandfather scrape together a meagre living as the anger and injustice that coiled inside them rotted their hearts.

Until Thror became so restless and so desperate that he left Dunland to Thrain’s rule as he travelled north to find his people the home and wealth that they were due. Dwalin recalls vividly the return of Thror’s only travel companion who had told Thrain of his father’s murder at the hands of the orc Azog at the gates of Moria. How the new King-in-Exile had wept and cut his beard in mourning, until on the seventh day of his grief he had declared war on the orcs. Of course Dwalin remembers it because it signalled the biggest battle in his lifetime which sealed the fate of so many. But more than anything he remembers it as the day that Thrain declared both of sons of age. Thorin had already surpassed his fortieth year by then, but Frerin had not. However, the old rituals and celebrations had long been ignored. Thorin’s coming of age had never been celebrated as it had come during their time of wandering the wilds. And thus he had never been granted the honour of the fire ritual.

But that night the priests dug a wide pit in the mountain village and Thorin and Frerin and the other young bucks who had either missed out on their proper celebration or who were technically still too young but deemed old and fit enough to fight, were given the fire blessing and pronounced adults. And the next day Thrain rode with every able buck to the valley of Azanulbizar were they were eventually joined by the other clans who had come to seek vengeance for their King’s death. But although the late reinforcements from the Iron Hills turned the tide of the battle in their people’s favour when Thrain’s nephew Dain had killed the pale orc, by then many of Durin’s folk had been slain. Including Thorin’s little brother.

And Thorin had mourned for his brother as his father had for Thror. He had wept for days and cut his beard and sworn not to let it grow back until he had returned his people to their rightful home in Azsâlul'abad. And Dwalin did not see him smile that bright smile of his again until many many years later when he had held his first nephew in his arms.

Thorin had rapidly grown up far beyond his years after that. Thrain could not settle back in Dunland again. He blamed himself for the loss of his son whom he had taken into battle before his time. And eventually he had left their temporary home in an attempt to reclaim Azsâlul'abad for his remaining son and daughter. He never returned. And after almost a year of hoping and praying in vain, Thorin with a heavy heart had declared his father lost and had uprooted his people to lead them to the lost dwarven kingdom at the heart of the Blue Mountains where he had rebuild a home for his people among the ruins of Gabilgathol.

But whilst his people had settled and the communities had thrived under his rule, Thorin had continued to be plagued by the darkness and losses of the past. Whereas to Dwalin and his brother and others of their generation Azsâlul'abad became a memory from long ago, for Thorin it became an obsession. He lived and breathed it and Dwalin was getting increasingly concerned that his friend was living in the past rather than the present. He had tried to pull him out of it many times. But Thorin had become a martyr of his own burden, denying himself any form of pleasure whilst they remained in exile. Even the birth of his nephews, which had been the most wonderful thing to happen to Thorin for a very long time, had only brought so much relief of his brooding mood. But at least Fili and Kili had brought a smile back to his face.

And then Kili had come of age and everything had changed. For the first time in over a hundred years Thorin’s heart appeared to be sparkling like a gemstone again. And it was a wondrous sight to see the clouds lift and the sun reappear in the uncrowned king’s features.

How could Balin not see that?

He and his older brother had argued loudly after Mahalmerag. Everyone appeared to have bought into the decoy of Dwalin making an offer to the newly-of-age dwarf prince. Everyone except Balin. He knew them all far too well. And the next day he had raised his chin up at his taller brother and prodded his finger in his chest. “I am no fool!” he had growled at Dwalin. “You did not court Kili last night.”

Dwalin had shrugged. It was none of Balin’s business what he had or had not done. He did not ask his brother about his Midwinternight courtship and he had no right to ask about his. “What is it to you? What is your issue with them anyway?”

Balin narrowed his eyes further underneath his big bushy eyebrows which were now almost white. “Is is forbidden! It does not matter what you or I think of it, you thick-skulled idiot! If they are found out ...”

“Then we must make sure that they are not,” Dwalin had put a calm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Thorin has suffered so much for all of us. I do not care whether Mahal gave his blessing or his disapproval. All I see is that for once he is happy!”

Balin huffed and with an angry shrug stormed out of his rooms. He knew there was no point trying to make his brother see sense. It was not that Dwalin denied Mahal, but he had his own views on how much their Great Maker involved himself in the daily lives of their people. In his mind the Lord the Anvil surely had more important matters to concern himself with than whether Thorin was sleeping with his nephew or not. In which case all of Balin’s fretting was all just over how the other dwarves including the Council and the Priesthood might react. But as far Dwalin was concerned what Thorin and Kili did behind closed doors was no-one else’s business and unless they came to snooping around Thorin’s private quarters no-one needed to know.


	2. 'Amad

“Are you alright, brother?” Dis asks as Thorin walks into the dining hall. “You look weary.”

Thorin nods and takes his seat at the head of the table. “Where is Fili?”

“Getting ready. I am sure he will get here soon. Is something wrong?” She lays her hand over his arm and looks into her brother’s grey blue eyes.

Thorin takes a deep breath. “There is something I need to talk to you about, sister.”

“Alright. What is bothering you?”

At that moment the blond prince appears in the doorway. “Apologies, uncle,” he says as he seats himself next to him, opposite his mother.

Thorin nods at him and then says to Dis, “We will talk after dinner.”

They have dinner in relative silence. With Kili being on his first patrol of their borders with some of the more seasoned warriors, his usual chatter has been absent for the last three nights.

“Did Fili tell you about the sword he forged today?” Thorin asks his sister, who shakes her head. “He has a remarkable skill,” Thorin continues, watching Fili beam in the corner of his eye. “He is so far ahead of the other apprentices. I believe that he will be running the smithy soon. We already have customers asking for him especially.”

“That is wonderful, son,” Dis smiled brightly. “You are doing your uncle and me proud.”

Working in the towns of men was something that Thorin never got used to. No matter how many decades passed, it reminded him every day again of how far removed he was still from restoring his honour. Seeing Fili work in the blacksmith’s possibly hurt him even more. Fili had never enjoyed his birth right. True, in Ered Luin he was treated as a prince. But in the villages of men he was seen as just a labourer for hire. And it pained Thorin more than anything. He wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was a prince of Durin and deserved to be treated with due respect. But they needed the money and therefore they needed the custom. They had come here with nothing and it would take centuries to attain the wealth that that he had enjoyed in Azsâlul'abad.

Dis sighs as conversation dies down again and she watches her brother and son stab absentmindedly at their food. “What is the matter with you two? Kili will be back tomorrow. You are both fretting more over him than I am! He does not need you two babysitting him all the time!”

Fili laughs, “Honestly mother, you know Kili can get himself in trouble in any situation! He is a master at it!”

“He’s a buck now,” Dis protests. “He has not got himself in any trouble recently. In fact he seems remarkably well behaved at the moment. I know it is not my place, but it seems to me that his coming of age has truly changed him. He appears to be really making the effort.” She smiles brightly. “Perhaps he is trying to impress someone?”

Thorin and Fili exchange a brief glance and they both feel a blush creep into their cheeks.

“Oh I know you must not tell me,” Dis laughs. “I am just being a nosy dam and I will hold my tongue now. All I am saying is that it is nice to see him work so hard. You surely must have noticed it too, Thorin?”

Thorin coughs, “Sure,” and quickly fills his mouth as he throws Fili a warning look telling him to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Fili does his best to chatter happily about his sparring with one of the stronger young bucks and how he had outwitted the lad and how Dwalin had been proud of him. But the atmosphere is tense and Fili excuses himself as soon as he has finished.

Thorin and Dis light their pipes and move towards the more comfortable chairs in front of the large fireplace. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about, brother?” Dis enquires.

The thought had entered his mind after Mahalmerag. One that he had never thought was possible before. He would have laughed and scolded anyone who would have suggested it. Yet now he is actually contemplating whether he should give up on Azsâlul'abad and permanently establish the kingdom of Durin right here in the ruins of Gabilgathol.

Dis stares at him with big eyes. “Give up on Azsâlul'abad?” she repeats Thorin’s statement. She looks at her brother as if he has lost his mind. Azsâlul'abad has been his obsession from the day the dragon came. It has pulsed through his very being every day and night since. Everything Thorin has done has been with a view to return to the Lonely Mountain one day and reclaim the throne. And yet tonight he casually declares that he has changed his mind and they might as well stay where they are? “What has brought this on?”

Thorin looks back at her, trying to keep his stoic composure. For a moment he considers telling his sister. He wants to. He needs to. But he cannot. Especially not without Kili here. He has already betrayed him by telling Fili without him knowing. Kili would not forgive him if he told Dis in his absence. “Our people have been homeless for too long,” he states calmly. “These are dwarvish lands. We can rebuild the kingdom here. I am not getting any younger, Dis. Time is passing by and I realise I may never be able to return our people to Azsâlul'abad. Perhaps staying here is the best option for my people.”

Dis narrows her eyes at him. She can sense he is not telling her the whole truth. There must be something else. Her brother does not change his mind that dramatically overnight without a cause. No dwarf does. Their people are slow to adapt, slow to accept change and even more reluctant to give up on what they believe is right. But Thorin says no more and just stares into the fire as he continues to draw on his pipe. “I am surprised, brother,” he says quietly. “But perhaps you are right. Perhaps the time has come that we accept the past and look to a new future.”

And Thorin nods.

Truth is that even if he forsakes his crown of King of the Seven Clans and just rules Durin’s folk in the Blue Mountains as he has done for so many years he and Kili can never openly be together. However, they could travel freely together and visit each other’s chambers every so often. It would never be as he would want it to be – to have Kili at his side as his soulmate and consort for all to see – but they could be happy somehow.

But if he reclaims Azsâlul'abad…

He sinks deeper against the back of his chair as he stares hard into the fire. If he reclaims Azsâlul'abad he will be expected to produce an heir. Should anything happen to him before then Fili will be the next in line. But if by some miracle they all survived and slayed the dragon and took Azsâlul'abad back, then he would no longer be able to uphold his apparent celibacy status as he has done all these years in exile. Like his father and his grandfather he will be expected to lie with the highest ranking dams to continue the bloodline of Durin.

He cannot do that. He cannot and would not lay with another and break his sacred binding with Kili. And so staying in Ered Luin, even if it goes everything he has always believed in, seems the only option.

He will tell his sister the truth. One day …

***

He sighs deeply as he picks up the scrolls in front of him. Not so long ago those very pieces of parchment were still everything to him. He had studied every rune, every drawing for so long that in reality he did not need to look at them ever again and he would be able to redraw them from memory. He also knew there was nothing new in the few design plans of Azsâlul'abad that his people had managed to rescue that could reveal a solution to him of how to enter the mountain kingdom and reclaim their homeland. Nonetheless once upon a time no-one would have been able to interrupt those ponderings as he once more delved into every possibility to take back his birth right. Yet now for the first time since that day of fire and death there is different thought that overpowers all others. Kili.

He rolls up the scrolls to have Ori take them to the library later. Tomorrow he will talk to the Council about his decision. He knows they will be as surprised as his sister had been. And he will have to be careful how he sells it to them. But he also thinks there will be many who will be relieved to find that Thorin will allow them to settle down. He knows his people are weary of their nomadic life. And the Blue Mountains have been their home for a long time now. The new generation, including his own nephews, have been born and have grown up here and this is the only home they know. And as the years have passed more and more of the older generation have also expressed an ever growing reluctance to travel across half the world for a home long lost and that they are unlikely to ever claim back. For what? For a fortress destroyed and burnt to the ground? For the gold hoard that lay under the feet of Smaug? For Thorin’s desire to reunite the dwarven clans under his rule? Was it really worth risking their lives for? They had all suffered enough losses then and in The Battle of Dwarves and Orcs. Many just wanted to continue to live their simple lives here and have their sons and daughters raised in safety. And Thorin knows that the hardest person to convince of this plan remains himself.

He jumps up as his door opens.

“Kili,” he smiles. The moment his dark hair bounces into view Thorin feels a warmth radiate through every cell in his body. This has been the first time his nephew has been away from Ered Luin without him and he had worried every minute about his safety. But here he is, looking happy and gorgeous.

“Thorin!” Kili exclaims as he runs over and flies into his arms, almost toppling over his chair.

It takes Thorin a moment to pry him lose. “Kili! The door!” He pushes the brunet off him and sprints towards the open door, slamming it shut. As he turns around, Kili is sprawled across his chair, looking mischievous as always. But Thorin scowls. “Do not be foolish, Kili. You know we must not be seen.”

His lover pouts. “But I missed you,” he says sadly.

Thorin sighs deeply and he walks over to him. “I missed you too, my sweet prince. But we must be careful. You know this!”

Kili is still grinning cheekily at him, as he cocks his head. “ _Did_ you miss me?” he asks huskily as he raises himself up and wraps his arms around Thorin, trying to seek his lips.

But Thorin backs away. “Kili! If you do not listen to me, then we will not be doing this. Do you have any idea what would happen if we were caught doing this?” He silently curses those beautiful brown eyes staring back at him, looking so innocent and yet being so far from it.

“Yes,” Kili sighs, sounding more bored than anything else as he repeats the lecture that Balin has given him over and over again for the last month or so. “If we are caught we will be sentenced, either as criminals or sinners or both.”

Thorin narrows his eyes at his much younger lover. “Kili, do you have even the faintest idea how serious our crime would be perceived? That we could be executed for this?”

Kili stares back at him, but does not retort. He wants to argue, what is the point? Thorin is not the one who needs convincing of their right to be together. Although … “Why can you not change the law? You are the heir to the throne!”

Thorin pulls Kili close to him. “Don’t you think I would have, _limuluh_ , if I could?” He strokes through his soft hair and places a kiss on his head. “But I cannot. Our laws have been passed down since the days of Father Durin and they cannot be changed by any living soul. And I have no influence at all over the Priesthood, they answer to no-one but Mahal.”

Kili opens his mouth to argue, but Thorin catches him in a soft kiss. “Do not say it, my love. I know what you are going to say, but unless Mahal choses to speak to Gorm Himself, then we are voiceless. We must trust in Him and His guidance.” He strokes his thumb across Kili’s soft lips. “So promise me that you will be more careful?”

Kili nods happily. “Now can I have a kiss?”

Thorin sighs and rolls his eyes as his lecture seems to have gone mostly over Kili’s head, but nonetheless gives in to the request as he presses his lips against Kili’s. It is good to feel him again.

When he releases him, he walks back to his chair and motion Kili to stand before his table. “I assume that before you forgot your place once again you came here to report to me, Kili?”

Kili is actually being very good and he bows his head politely to Thorin. “I did. Nothing of concern to report, _Ezbaduh_. Both our patrol and the western patrol have not encountered anything of a suspicious nature. The rumours as yet appear to remain unfounded.”

“Good,” Thorin contemplates. “This will strengthen my argument at the Council tomorrow. Thank you, Kili.”

“What argument?” Kili asks, cocking his head.

“I have decided that we will stay in Ered Luin. We will not return to Azsâlul'abad. Instead we will settle down here.”

Kili’s mouth drops open in surprise. “But … Why?”

“Are you not happy here?”

“Well yes, but …”

“Our people want to settle down, Kili. It is not good for them to remain in limbo about whether we stay here or return to the north eastern lands.”

Kili nods. He has never known Azsâlul'abad. He was born here so for him the Mountain Kingdom has only ever been a tale, a dream and a possible adventure. “But that means … You will give up the throne?”

Thorin nods. “We are still the princes of Durin, Kili. I will rule Durin’s folk here in Ered Luin and your brother after me. But the clans will remain ununited, yes.”

“And _us_?”

“You know that already, Kili. You knew that from the very first moment that we kissed.” He stands up and walks over to Kili taking his stubbly cheeks between his large hands. “I am sorry, my love, it cannot be any other way. I will say this again; I would understand if you did not wish to commit yourself to such a thing. I would surrender my right to my blessing if you asked me to. For eternity if that were Mahal’s decision. But there will never be another for me.”

Kili blinks hard at him as he leans into the warmth of his hands. “Nor will there be for me, Thorin. _Menu tessu_.”

And they lean towards each other to share a deep kiss.

***

Dis freezes in the doorway. She had gone to ask her brother about the Council meeting in the morning. Whether he was still planning to announce their settlement in Ered Luin. As the most senior representative of the female community, she had wished to prepare for any eventual questions or concerns if he was planning to make his announcement. Yet her breath is stolen from her lungs as she stares at her brother locked in a passionate kiss with her youngest son.

Time seems to tick by at a fraction of its normal speed. Dis feels like she has been entombed alive, like she is screaming and kicking out and yet no-one can see or hear her.

And then Thorin opens his eyes and jumps back, nearly knocking Kili to the floor as he does so. “Dis!”

The world turns in slow-motion. Both Thorin and Kili freeze in place just as Dis moves forward. It is only when the heavy door falls shut that sound disturbs their freezehold and life seems to return to its natural pace.

“What is this?!” she cries out. Her head flicks from Kili, who has turned such a bright shade of red that he looks like he will burst, to Thorin, who has gone deathly pale.

“Dis…” Thorin says again, softly this time. “I was going to tell you …”

But Dis is over in a few steps, staring up at her brother, he eyes flaming. “You were going to tell me what? That you are defiling my son?!”

“‘ _Amad_ …” Kili tries, but without looking at him Dis cuts him off before he has a chance to say more. “Kili, leave us. Right now!”

Kili looks at Thorin, but he shakes his head at his sister. “No Dis,” he tries to sound calm. “This concerns the both of us. Do not send him away like a child.”

“He _is_ a child! He is _my_ child!!” Dis screams loudly now.

Thorin tries to calm her by putting a hand on her shoulder, but she sinks her teeth deep into his flesh, drawing blood as he yanks his hand back.

“I am _no_ child! I am a buck now, mother,” Kili jumps in, anger rising in his voice too.

Dis swings around and slaps her son hard across the face, leaving an angry imprint on his cheek. “I do not care how old you are! You are a silly little boy!” she screams at him. And she turns back to Thorin again, who shrinks back at the fire blazing in her eyes. “And _you_! How dare you take advantage of my son! You know how much they both look up to you!  You are supposed to protect them!”

“Dis, listen for a moment …” Thorin attempts, but this time he is at the receiving end of her hand as the slap resonates through the room.

“Do you have any idea what would happen if the Council learnt of this?! Or Gorm!” At that Dis herself pales, and she wobbles on her feet.

Kili grabs her and pulls her against him. “ _’Amad_ , it is alright,” he whispers as he rocks her soothingly. “Please do not be angry with Thorin. It was me who courted him first.” At that Dis pushes her son back and looks at him. “It is true, _‘amad._ And …” he goes red again. He should not be having this conversation with his mother. “… we are not just courting. I love him. He … Thorin is _sanumùradûnuh_. I am his.” And he looks to his uncle with a soft smile.

Dis looks from her son to her brother. “Do you believe this?” she asks Thorin, who nods solemnly.

“I do, Dis. I love Kili. I am sorry, _namad_ , that you had to find out this way. We should have spoken to you before.”

“Who else knows?”

Thorin swallows, readying himself for another outburst. “Balin knows.”

“And Dwalin?” Dis fills in, knowing that her brother would have told his best friend. Thorin nods.

“And … Fili.”

Both Thorin and Kili take a step back as Dis’ face darkens. “Fili knows?!”

“Yes,” Kili replies. “But we did not tell him. He guessed. You know how close we are, ‘ _amad_. We share the same quarters, he was bound to find out at some point.”

Dis shakes her head at Thorin. “Is _this_ why you have decided to stay in Ered Luin?”

“No, I do also think it is the right thing to do for our people,” Thorin answers honestly. “But yes, perhaps Kili has opened my eyes to my unrealistic obsession with Azsâlul'abad. Shown me there are other things that matter more than gold and titles.”

“So what will you two do? You can never be together.”

“Not openly no. We know this. And if people would knock on my door rather than just burst in than we could keep it a secret,” Thorin tries to humour his sister.

Dis snorts. “Perhaps.” She scowls at Thorin. “That does not mean I approve of what you are doing to my son!”

“I know.”

She turns back to Kili, grabbing him by the cheeks forcing him to bend down until his face is right by hers. In a soft low voice she says, “Is this really what you want, Kili? You are such a handsome boy. You could have your pick of the best lovers amongst our people. I know how much you admire my brother. But will you really forfeit your life to hide in the shadows for him?”

“I am not forfeiting my life, _‘amad_. My life is with Thorin. And yes, I choose to be with him no matter what it takes.”

Dis looks into his eyes for a moment without blinking. Then she turns around and leaves the Thorin’s chambers without another word.

Both Thorin and Kili simultaneously draw in a deep breath.

“Did that go well?” Kili asks, confused.

Thorin laughs softly. “As well as it could have, I think,” and he rubs across the flaming bite mark on his hand.

This time he makes sure to lock his door, before he takes his lover back into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> limuluh = my gold  
> Ezbaduh = my Lord  
> menu tessu = you are everything  
> 'amad = mother  
> sanumùradûnuh = my soulmate  
> namad = sister


	3. With Pleasure

Kili’s exchange with Dis is churning around in his head. Kili is willing to sacrifice everything for him. He has told his mother that his life is with him. And Thorin does not know whether to feel happy or scared of his nephew’s unfaltering devotion to him.

 “Stop thinking about my mother,” Kili giggles. “It is quite a turn off, you know.”

Thorin smiles softly at him. “I was not. I was thinking about you,” he strokes Kili’s cheek. “About what you said - that your life is with me.”

“It is,” Kili smiles back. “ _Men lananubukhs menu.”_

Thorin draws in a sharp breath. It is the first time Kili has expressed his feelings in the dwarvish tongue to him and it feels … weighty.

Before he has a chance to respond, Kili grabs his hand and begins to drag him towards his own bedroom. Thorin is taken by surprise. At what point did he lose such control over the situation that Kili has become the leading one in their relationship? In his own chambers of all places! He really is getting old that he lets his barely-of-age sister-son order him around like this. Yet it feels exciting and rejuvenating to be desired such by his younger lover.

Kili drags him down onto the bed, pulling him close as his lips latch onto his neck.

“Eager,” Thorin smiles.

“I have not seen you for three days,” Kili moans softly against his neck. “Yes I am eager!”

“You cannot be without me for just three days, my impatient one?” Thorin teases, earning him a soft bite against his neck which makes him groans in pleasure. Kili had been quick to locate this particularly sensitive spot on his body and feeling his warm lips there is sending shivers through him. He runs his hands through Kili’s hair, greasy and dusty from his days on the road. “You could have washed before bedding your king.”

Kili lifts his head and frowns at him. “Am I too dirty for you, your majesty?” He pushes Thorin onto his back and straddles him, grinning defiantly.

“That remains to be seen,” Thorin smiles as he places his hands on Kili’s hips. “How does my captain think to serve his king tonight?”

Kili considers him for a moment and blushes slightly. A little less confident and cocky this time, he says softly. “Your captain was hoping that his king may wish to enjoy him tonight…”

They stare at each other silently for a moment. Thorin’s heart is thumping in his chest. “Are you sure?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Yes. If … if you want to …”

Thorin can feel himself twitch and starting to grow hard. “I do, _mabarûnuh_.” He strokes his hands over Kili’s thighs. “I desire you so much,” he admits huskily.

Kili sways. Seeing the burning heat in his uncle’s eyes flaming for him is making him sweat. “I want you to take me,” he whimpers, pushing his hips down and back, grinding himself against Thorin’s crotch as his hands trace over the fine material of Thorin’s tunic.

“Patience, _sanmaluh_ ,” Thorin groans deeply. He gently rolls Kili off him and onto his back. “I do want to enjoy you tonight. And I am going to take my time over it,” he smiles.

Kili melts under his dark stare and sighs as Thorin’s hands roam along the inside of his leg, teasing their way upwards. “Tell me how much you want me to touch you,” he smiles at his lover.

Kili softly wriggles under his touch, groaning. “Please Thorin, I am desperate. You … you make me so hard.”

Thorin’s eyes slide over the bulge in Kili’s breeches. “Take out your cock for me,” he says and Kili’s eyes grow wide. “Show it to me.”

Kili keeps his eyes locked on Thorin’s as his fingers fumble with his laces. A moment later his hand slides inside and pulls out his stiff member. Thorin smiles as his eyes shift back down. “Beautiful.” He very carefully traces a finger along the shaft, making Kili draw in his breath. Then he looks over at his beautiful face again, blushing softly with heat. “Touch yourself for me. Show me how well you have learnt to pleasure yourself.”

Kili shudders, but his hand slowly wraps around his prick. Thorin groans softly as Kili starts to move his hand along its length, pulling the skin down over his cockhead, showing off the dark pink tip.

“Gorgeous,” Thorin sighs as he sits back and watches Kili tentatively pleasure himself. “I love watching you do that, _nidoyuh_. Such a delightful sight.” His own hand slides down to palm himself through his breeches.

“Show me too,” Kili breathes heavily. “Please.”

Thorin nods and pulls at the lacing to set himself free. Kili watches him as Thorin takes himself in hand, and the brunet increases the speed of his movement a little.

“You like what you see?” Thorin enquires. His voice has dropped even lower now as his arousal runs through him.

Kili nods, his lips slightly parted as he stares at Thorin’s hard member rising up from between his thighs. “Very much so. You … you are … big,” he swallows hard.

Thorin leans himself forward and wraps his hand around Kili’s, making him squeeze the brunet’s cock harder. “You are a Durin too,” he grins. “Do not sell yourself short, my prince.”

“I’m not. It’s just …” Kili flushes as he looks at Thorin’s large cock and he feels the anxiety rise in himself again. He is so afraid to fail him; that he will not be able to take his broadsword.

“Sssh, little one,” Thorin soothes as he can see Kili is beginning to fret. “We will take our time. Until you feel ready for me. Alright, my love?” Kili nods, placing his trust in his uncle as he always has.

Thorin lets go of his nephew and raises himself up off the bed. Slowly he begins to undress as Kili’s eyes slide over him. One by one the simple garments drop onto the stone floor. They are still more decorated than those of lower ranking dwarves, some of the intricate stitching indicating his heritage and royal line, but nothing like the garments he used to wear in Azsâlul'abad. But they are comfortable and practical.

As soon as he is free from his clothing he crawls back onto the bed and pulls Kili in his arms, pressing his tongue against his lips to twirl around in the soft warmth of his mouth. Kili’s cock presses against his own and Thorin groans softly at the sensation of his heat. He drags his hand down Kili’s back and pushes his buttocks forward to press him harder against him.

“Undress for me,” he says when he has pulled his tongue back, stroking his thumb over Kili’s swollen lips.

Kili quickly follows the order and Thorin smiles. If only it was this easy to make Kili obey all his orders! But a moment later Kili’s naked body flops down onto his own and he is showered in wet kisses as Kili rubs himself against him once more. Thorin’s wraps his arms tightly around his nephew’s sleek form, pulling him further into the heat of their bodies. Kili’s young body is still growing into adulthood, still broadening and strengthening. But already his muscles have started to bulk from his weapon training and hunting. He runs his fingers down the curvature of Kili’s back until his thumbs rest on his tailbone. Kili groans softly as he feathers his hands out over the soft globes that hide such pleasure between them.

“Prepare me,” Kili begs him softly, nuzzling against his ear.

Thorin takes a slow breath and then gently flips Kili onto his back, before he reaches out for the little flacon that he now stores under his pillows. He seats himself in between Kili’s thighs and pulls the cork to coat his index and middle finger in the slippery substance. He pushes Kili’s buttocks gently apart and brings his slicked fingers towards his entrance. Kili closes his eyes as Thorin begins to stroke his fingers between his cheeks, greasing him up before slowly pushes one finger inside him. Kili groans softly as his nerves are teased by Thorin’s rough fingertip.

“How does that feel, my love?”

Kili shivers as the thick finger twists gently inside him. “Good, Thorin. A…another, please.”

Thorin pulls his middle finger back a little to join it with his index finger. Kili groans a little as he is stretched further, but takes him easily enough. “So hot,” Thorin whispers. “I am keen to feel that heat envelop me, Kili.”

“Oh it will feel good,” Kili grins. “You felt so good when I fucked you.” He goes a bright red at the crudity of his phrasing. Once more he has forgotten his place and the fact that his lover is the heir of Azsâlul'abad. “I mean ...”

But Thorin, despite his own blush, smiles wantonly. “I very much enjoyed you fucking me,” he winks at his prince who relaxes further under his playful touch, wriggling himself around Thorin’s fingers. Thorin takes the hint and starts to drive his fingers slowly in and out of Kili’s entrance. Kili is groaning loudly on each intrusion, encouraging Thorin to speed up the thrusting of his hand. “Do you like that, little Kee?” His other hand is wrapped firmly around his own cock as he runs it up and down his length. Pushing his fingers inside Kili’s burning body is making it hard to keep in control and he needs to keep his strokes slow or he will end this night before it has barely begun.

Kili is unable to string a sentence together as his legs have fallen open wide and he grunts in the rhythm of Thorin’s penetration. Already he is close. And when Thorin hits him dead on his most sensitive spot he wails softly. “Again, Thorin. Please.”

Thorin twists his fingers and runs them over that soft nub inside Kili’s body again. Watching his lover wriggle and groan and fall apart under his touch is beautiful.

Kili’s hand is on his cock again and he begins to palm himself in unison with Thorin’s fingers. Thorin feels the heat radiate inside Kili as he looks at him, pulling himself towards his peak. The archer’s muscles are clenching hard around his fingers as he gets closer to his climax. His eyes are shut now as he jerks himself off with vigour, panting heavily. “Gonna come,” he exclaims suddenly and almost immediately his hand is coated in the pearly cum spilling from his swollen prick.

Thorin joins in Kili’s groans and has to grab himself firmly to stop himself from joining his release too. “Beautiful prince,” he sighs as Kili’s eyes flick open.  “Did that feel good?”

Kili beams brightly. “Mahal, yes,” he sighs. “ _Âk…âkminrûk zu.”_

 _“Yamal,_ ” Thorin responds with a smile.

His fingers are still locked inside Kili’s body and as he moves them slightly to draw back so that he can slick him up more, Kili shivers under him. Thorin hums softly in reassurance as his fingers slide from the heat and adds a little more oil. Kili is a wreck as he returns his hand to his backside and his young lover opens up easily again as he pushes three fingers against his folds.

“How is that, sweet prince? Is that acceptable for you?” he asks gently as he works the young prince open with the sure thrusts and twists of his hand.

“Yes, it feels wonderful,” Kili whimpers softly. “I … I think I am ready for you.”

Thorin moves himself closer in between Kili’s legs. He slowly withdraws his fingers to replace them with his oiled cock resting against that open heat. He keeps his eyes locked onto Kili’s face as he begins to very slowly push his head against those folds, watching out for any sign of hurt or discomfort. But after one little flinch as he breaches the rim with the broad head of his cock Kili relaxes blissfully around him and allows him to slide in further.

“Are you alright, Kee?” he asks holding himself in place before pushing in the final bit.

“Yes!” Kili whines in need. “Oh Thorin, this feels so good!” He wraps his legs around Thorin’s backside and smoothly draws him in the last inch. Thorin grunts deeply as he is taken in completely.  Kili’s worries have been unfounded. He takes his uncle easily enough after the slow preparation he has given him and though it feels odd to be stretched so widely, it also feels amazing to have Thorin’s heavy sword rammed inside his body.

Thorin gasps as he shifts slightly. “You are so tight. Oh Kee, are you sure you are alright?” His young lover’s body is gripping his shaft so very hard.

“Yes, Thorin,” Kili smiles and he pulls his uncle down for a deep kiss. “So good. M…move please.”

Thorin rests himself on his palms as he begins to roll his hips, dragging himself out only so little at first to allow Kili to get used to his girth and relax more. “So hot, my prince,” he groans deeply. The sensation on his member is overwhelming. No wonder his friends have boasted about doing this for so many years. Having Kili drill himself inside his body a month or so ago had been wonderfully intimate and had felt remarkably good. But this feeling of Kili’s heat wrapped tightly around his pulsing length, opening up for him to accept his seed, is beyond description. As Kili relaxes he finds himself speed up his thrusts, pulling back further and pushing harder on each forward movement. Still he keeps his eyes focused on Kili’s face, worried that at any moment it will become too much for him and he will ask him to stop. But Kili is a sweaty puddle of pleasure under him, groaning and writhing as he is pounded down into the mattress. And Thorin can see the blood return to his member as he is starting to harden again; a sure sign that he is enjoying this as much as he says he is.

When Thorin stills his movement, Kili moans in frustration. “Thorin?”

“Turn onto your side,” Thorin whispers as he pulls himself back slowly, leaving Kili’s body with a wet pop.

He rolls himself behind his lover as he pushes him into the right position. Thorin wraps his arm underneath Kili’s legs and bends it up, wrapping it over his own and opening him up for him again. He rubs the wet head of his cock between Kili’s cheeks before smoothly pushing it back into his body, drawing soft whimpers of pleasure from Kili.

“I love you, Kili,” he whispers as he pulls his love close against him as he sheafs himself back fully into the heat of his body. He licks his rough tongue over his shoulder, tasting the salty sweat on Kili’s burning skin.

“Love you too,” Kili pants in return and turns his head to taste Thorin’s tongue. “You feel so good, my king.”

As he buries himself inside Kili’s body once more, his large hand snakes around and takes hold of Kili’s semi-hard cock, making the young prince groan deeply. And he slowly begins to pump the hardness back into that delicious sword.

“Oh Thorin, s…so good,” Kili whines as he moves himself back against Thorin before thrusting himself into his hand. “F… faster.”

“Good boy,” Thorin smiles as he places ample wet kisses all over Kili’s shoulder. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Harder,” Kili cries out.

Thorin increases the pressure on his lover’s cock, impressed by his youthful ability to return to full service so quickly. He speeds up both his thrusts into Kili’s heat and the jerking of his cock and Kili whimpers and whines zealously as he does so.

“Are you okay, Kee?” Thorin whispers into his ear as his lover’s cries are so loud and urgent now.

“Yes! Oh Mahal!” Kili is arching against him, thrusting himself back as hard as Thorin is giving him. “S…so close!”

Thorin groans as he can feel Kili clench, around his cock rather than his fingers this time, before another load of hot seed spills from him into Thorin’s hand. And he loses himself inside Kili as soon as the liquid touches his skin, his climax blooming inside his body as he thrusts himself hard into him. He knows deep shuddering noises are coming from his throat but they feel no longer his own as his orgasm flows through him.

Kili feels utterly lost in ecstasy as Thorin pulls another orgasm from him, so soon after the last one. But even then he is unprepared for the sensation of feeling Thorin come inside him. There cannot be anything more pleasurable than to have his king and lover spill his seed into him, thrusting himself so deep inside his body as he shudders through his release.

Neither knows how many minutes have passed before their heartbeats begin to slow down and their breaths become steady again. Thorin pulls Kili as close as possible, soiling his heated skin with the coating of his seed in the palm of his hand.

“Kili,” he whispers softly, pressing his lips against Kili’s shoulder, “that was wonderful. How are you feeling?”

Kili wriggles himself out of Thorin’s embrace causing his uncle to slip from him as he turns around to face the love of his life. “Amazing,” he beams. “That was … amazing.” He digs his hands into Thorin’s thick hair, threading his braids through his fingers. “Thank you for making me yours.”

Thorin wraps him into his arms again and presses soft kisses on the corners of his mouth. “Thank you for letting me, my prince.” He draws Kili close against his chest and draws in a deep satisfied breath as he breathes in Kili’s scent of sweat and sex, listening to Kili’s breath grow steady until it becomes the deep regular sound of sleep.

***

As he listens to Kili’s soft snoring and strokes his thick fingers through his nephew’s soft hair, he sighs, thinking back to the heated exchange with his sister earlier. He knows that Dis does not approve of what he is doing with her son. That if Kili had not stayed in the room then she would have given him a whole lot worse than just a slap across the face and the bite mark that still throbs on the back of his hand. Yet it could have been worse. He had expected Dis to threaten to kill him if he ever came near Kili ever again. But surprisingly enough she had had left the two of them together in his rooms. And although she might never forgive him for sleeping with Kili and never accept her youngest son making out with his uncle, she seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that Kili is an adult now and no longer answerable to her. That this is his choice and that there is nothing she could do about it. But it is not how Thorin wants things to be. He loves his sister dearly and is so grateful to her for birthing his two nephews. He does not want to go against her wishes, does not want Kili to become and argument between them. And he can understand her position as a mother. She had been right; it was his duty to protect his nephews not to place them in the path of danger. And yet that is exactly what he is doing as he lies here in the aftermath of making forbidden love to Kili. And once more he feels the guilt battle the love and the lust inside him, preventing him for relaxing into the sleep that has taken Kili so easily. How he wishes that he could have it all. To love Kili without risking his safety. He pulls Kili’s sleeping frame close again, pressing a sure kiss on his head. “ _Achrâchi gabilul, habanuh._ _Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu.”_ _I am sorry, my gem. May Mahal’s hammer shield you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mabarûnuh = a dwarf that one shares the bed with  
> sanmaluh = my perfect pleasure  
> âkminrûk zu = thank you  
> yamal = with pleasure  
>  


	4. The Council

Mahalmerag had changed things forever between them. What they had done then and again last night could never been undone, never be erased from memory. Twice he has lain with his sister-son. They are lovers.  

Kili is still asleep in his bed when Thorin readies himself for his council meeting. They are becoming increasingly careless and Thorin knows it, yet he lacks that level of worry and caution that he had started off with on that night when he had taken Kili hunting and they had first crossed the boundary. Now that their closest friends and family know about them, what is between them feels almost normal. Fili knows and so there is no longer a need for Kili to creep back to his chambers in the middle of the night to pretend he has slept in his own bed. As long as he is careful when leaving Thorin’s chambers… Even Balin and Dis, who have so strongly expressed their disapproval, have not really stopped them and he knows neither of them will say anything that would put them at risk. And it has given them a false sense of security. That they can get away with loving each other like this; that it is almost acceptable. The reality of what will happen when others learn of their sin seems too distant to even care about. Their community in the royal quarters is sheltered. It is not like the larger quarters where everyone knows everyone’s business. His chambers should be secure and private and safe.

He looks over at the dark tousled hair spread across the pillows. The blissfully sleeping face framed by it. So beautiful, so handsome. Mahal had truly excelled himself when he had forged Kili for him. An urge creeps up into him. To scoop his wonderful nephew up and run away with him. Away from a world where they cannot be together. Towards a life where he can hold him in his arms and kiss him and love him until the end of their days. But he cannot run away from his duties, his people. He is Durin’s son. Running away like a thief would be ridiculous. Besides it would leave Fili horribly exposed, which he will never allow to happen. He may not love Fili as a lover, but he does love him like a son and he will never abandon him like that. Not even for Kili.

He bends himself down and places a kiss on Kili’s forehead. “Thank you, my prince,” he whispers in thanks of the most beautiful night they had shared together. “I love you.” And then he turns around and leaves his chambers to make his announcement to the Council.

***

The buzz of conversation dies down as soon as he appears in the doorway. On the left side of the oak table are his advisors - Balin, Dwalin and Gloin - and three other bucks representing the interests of the male community. On the right hand side are Dis, her own advisors and a representative for the Dams. This is the only occasion outside of their feasts, when both communities are seated around the same table and have equal voice. Lastly, at the opposite head of the table is Gorm.

Thorin nods as all have risen to their feet, indicating that they may take their seats again. He throws a quick glance at Dis, but his sister ignores him as she stares purposefully at the scrolls in front of her. But her jaw is set hard and he knows he is still in trouble with her.

As soon as Thorin has seated himself at the head of the table, Balin clears his throat. “Thank you all for coming here today,” he opens the meeting. “We have several items on the agenda that we need to cover, including …”

Thorin lays a hand on his arm. “Before you continue, Balin, there is an announcement I wish to make.”

Balin glares at him. He is not happy. He likes to follow procedures and routine and he runs every council meeting following a strict agenda. There is little that upsets him more than something unexpected thrown in that he has no control over and Thorin had neither discussed nor added to the agenda whatever announcement he wishes to make today. He does know why. Their recent conversations have inevitably ended up going over the same old argument and Thorin has pretty much avoided him since the Midwinter Festival. But despite their disagreement, Thorin is still his senior in rank and he twitches as he reluctantly hands over to him.

Thorin gives him a curt nod and begins to address the council. “My brethren. For many years we have talked about our homeland. Our right to return to Azsâlul'abad and reclaim what is ours. You know that for all those years I have sought a way to do so, to enter the mountain and return the Arkenstone to the House of Durin in order the reunite the Clans and rid Azsâlul'abad of the dragon. But like my father before me so far I have failed you.”

There is a soft rumbling around the table at that.

“We now have a choice. I know our people are weary of travelling, of fighting. We have suffered many losses in the years before we came to Ered Luin. We have experienced hardship and starvation. We have suffered humiliation and betrayal by those who we considered allies.”

Those around him nod in agreement.

“But here, in these ancient dwarvish lands, our communities have slowly begun to settle and prosper. I wish to see my people happy. But for that we may have to make those sacrifices not previously considered. I have thought long and hard about this, the implications of my decision. But I have concluded that this is the right thing for Durin’s folk. Our new generation have been born and raised here in the Blue Mountains. This is their home. And we shall make it a home for all. We will not return to Azsâlul'abad. Instead we will remain here and rebuild the kingdom of Gabilgathol as our new home.”

There is a moment of stunned silence around the table. But then there are smiles all round and fists slammed on the table in approval.

“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” Gloin suddenly calls out. And the others join him in their praise of Thorin’s decision. Even Balin, who despite his annoyance with Thorin looks relieved too at the prospect of being able to settle down and grow old here.

This time when he looks over at his sister she gives him a curt smile. He may in her mind have made the worst decisions when it comes to his nephew, but he at least has done the right thing for their people.

The next dwarf who catches his attention is Gorm, who looks at him with a stoic expression. Thorin holds up his hand to silence his companions. “Gorm, will Mahal give us His blessing to stay here?” he asks.

“I am sure our Mighty Father will give us his blessing,” Gorm smirks, “if our settlement here means that our ancient traditions and customs are upheld and where necessary reintroduced, _Ezbaduh_.”

Thorin narrows his eyes at the older dwarf. “What do you mean?”

Gorm rubs his hand over his long beard. “Certain things have … shall we say … slipped since we have left Azsâlul'abad.” He folds his hands and leans himself forward. Thorin sees the others shift uncomfortably in his peripheral vision. Gorm really only attends the Council meetings to offer spiritual advice if asked for and give his blessings in the name of Mahal to any important decisions being made. He is not actually a Member of the Council, and it is certainly not his place to challenge how Thorin runs the affairs in Ered Luin.

Balin glances over at Thorin whose face is beginning to cloud over.

“I do not care for your cryptic input, Gorm,” Thorin answers, trying his best to not lose his temper with the Highpriest. “Be specific about which matters displease Mahal so that we can put them right.” He can see both Balin and Dis cringe but he ignores them both. This is not about him and Kili, he is sure of that.

“Forgive me my impudence, _Ezbaduh_ , but it has come to my attention that certain matters have not been dealt with according to Durin’s law. A recent matter of theft was settled in gold with the plaintive. But the perpetrator was never punished.”

Thorin slams his fist down on the table, making everyone jump. “I will not discuss any such matters at this table. You judge on matters of religious law and I do on matters of common law. Do not forget your place, Gorm. Do not presume you have the right to tell me how to run my court. You take advice from Mahal in your judgements; I take advice from The Council. We will not stray into each other’s territory. Am I understood, Gorm?”

Everyone else around the table has flinched and flushed, but Gorm does not bat an eyelid. “As you dictate, _Ezbaduh_.” He clears his throat and continues in his usual calm manner, but his tone is cutting through the room like a diamond saw. “There is another matter, Thorin. I grieve with you for the loss of your brother as I have done for all those fallen in the great battle. But if you will not return to Azsâlul'abad, will you end your years of mourning and regrow your beard to honour Durin, Father of the Longbeards and Mahal’s creation, once more?”

Thorin feels the flush run up his neck and his hands are balling. How dare this dwarf talk to him about his grieving for Frerin in front of The Council? Personally he wants to order him to leave the room right now. But at the same time he needs to keep Gorm on his side - ultimately he is Mahal’s representative on Arda - and he has already argued with him. He had been right to do so regarding the matter of law; he needed to reinforce those boundaries. But this was another matter altogether, one of custom and honour. Durin’s folk considered the keeping of their beards as much a cultural as a religious matter. Shaving another’s beard was considered the ultimate degradation. And not keeping one’s beard well kempt was an insult on Mahal himself. Perhaps this is a matter where he can show his goodwill to the priest. He has to, he does not need him stirring up matters or trying to find fault in him. Not whilst he has put himself and his beloved in such a vulnerable position. Through gritted teeth, he answers, “You are right, _Ezagart_. Now that our days of wandering are behind us, our time of grieving for those lost has also come to an end,” he raises his voice slightly to add weight to his words and bring the others around the table on his side. He may give in to Gorm’s demand, but he will do it on his own terms. “We shall honour them by rebuilding our home here, in the Blue Mountains. And it will be even grander than Azsâlul'abad was!” He raises his fist to emphasize his statement even more and the others chorus their approval. “And my beard will grow as our wealth grows, until both are full and magnificent once more!”

Dis gives him a broad smile. Her brother may have been a fool recently, but he is the Durin King alright. He knows how to inspire his men and women and how to turn events his way.

Gorm nods in satisfaction, although there is no warmth in smile. “I am pleased to hear this, _Ezbaduh_. And I assume that you will seek the title of _Thanu_?”

Thorin glances over to Balin, who answers for him. “Yes. If Thorin no longer seeks the throne of Azsâlul'abad, then may I suggest that he is crowned King of Durin’s folk here in Ered Luin? If anyone objects to this then speak now or hold your tongue forever.” Everyone glances around the table, but no objections are raised.

“Very well,” Gorm smirks. “Then we had best bring this meeting to a swift conclusion so that we can begin our preparation for your coronation, Thorin.”

Balin scowls in equal measures as Thorin does at the Highpriest. Who does he think he is; he does not call the shots here! And he feels a chill creep up his spine. He has tried to warn Thorin over and over again about Gorm. That he was becoming arrogant and was beginning to forget that he only ruled inside the temple-house and not outside it. The dwarf is slippery as a fish and the more Balin sees of him, the less he trusts him. Indeed there has been something fishy about this whole conversation. Something underhand that he cannot quite place his finger on. But whatever it is he has a very bad feeling about it.

***

Thorin places his hand on Balin’s arm one he has called the meeting to a close, indicating that he wishes him to stay behind. As soon as the others have departed, he looks at his old friend. “Forgive me for not discussing my decision with you.”

Balin raises an eyebrow. Thorin is not one to apologise quickly. He nods. “It is a wise decision, Thorin. Your people will be grateful for it. This is not the first time Durin’s folk have resettled. Do not be too hard on yourself, Thorin. You have not failed us. You have made the decision of a great leader – to put your people’s welfare first.”

Thorin smiles. “Thank you, Balin.” He makes a move to get up but Balin stops him.

“Thorin,” he lowers his voice, flicking his head around to make sure they are alone. “Gorm, he …”

“I know,” Thorin acknowledges. “I see it too. He is stirring. He is involving himself in matters that are not of his concern.” He sighs. “But what can I do, other than reinforce the scope of his authority? He is Mahal’s chosen one.”

Balin nods. “That he is. That is why he is dangerous, Thorin. Even if he has not direct authority over you, he has influence. If he shouts loud enough that Mahal disapproves of your decisions, that you are invoking his wrath over us by going against his will … Your people trust you, they admire you. But they will not choose your word over Mahal’s, Thorin.”

“And I do not wish them to. I do not wish to go against our Maker’s wishes. The question is, does Gorm really represent His word or his own desires?”

Balin gasps. But he does not say anything. What Thorin has just said out loud, he will never repeat to anyone. Gorm is Mahal’s Highpriest and Thorin’s questioning of his honour and trustworthiness is as sacrilegious as if he had offended the Lord of the Anvil himself. But Balin cannot help wonder if there is some truth in those words. Gorm is still but a dwarf. No mortal being is faultless. Everyone has their own desires that cloud their judgement. Thorin is a prime example of this. “Just be careful,” he says to Thorin and at that they both rise to return to their quarters and ready themselves for a day’s work.

***

Both Kili and Fili are bouncing with excitement when Dis tells them about the Council’s acceptance of Thorin’s decision to stay in Ered Luin. She knows they would have been equally excited if she had told them they were to pack their bags to march upon Azsâlul'abad. Her boys are enthused about whatever her brother dictates; they are totally loyal and devoted to him. She watches them as they play fight with each other. They are of age now and they have responsibilities and can act like bucks when required, yet they are still so young and naïve.

She sighs deeply as she watches Kili pin his brother down. He is so much like Thorin was in his young days, so full of energy and adventure. It is no wonder the two are attracted to each other. She knows it is wrong and she had been horrified to find out that Thorin was courting her son. The very idea sickens her. But she can also see they make each other happy. And she knows that Thorin will look after her son as he would the most precious of treasures.  

But the Council meeting has worried her. Priesthood is reserved for bucks only and as such she has little to do with Gorm. He had always been a quiet observer during the meetings, offering advice only when asked. But today’s exchange between her brother and the Highpriest had sent chills through her. He had raised some fair points, but it was the manner in which he had done it that had frightened her. There had been a chilling undertone, one that questioned Thorin’s authority and wisdom. Her brother had handled it very well, she thought, and if anyone could keep the Highpriest in his place it was Thorin. But her brother would have to play it carefully. Their people dedicate every bit of themselves to honour Mahal. Their laws and customs are steeped in history and the dwarves are proud of that. Dis had been young when they had fled Azsâlul'abad and she does not recall exactly how things used to be then compared to how they are now. But she understands that Thorin rules with less of an iron fist than their grandfather had.

What she does know is that Thorin is playing a very dangerous game with her son. If anyone learns that the king is bedding his nephew they will get a whole lot worse than the slap she had dealt them both. Those who currently know can be trusted; she does not doubt any one of them. But it would take but one slip up for the news to reach other ears. Of those who will be less likely to turn a blind eye to Thorin’s sin. And she fears for the both of them. _Oh brother, why do you take such risks? Why my Kili? Can you not see what will come of this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezbaduh = my Lord  
> Ezagart = Highpriest


	5. The Walls Have Ears

The two firm knocks on the door are unmistakably Thorin’s. “Fili, are you ready?” his voice booms from the other side of the door.

Fili pulls the door open, hoisting his pack over his shoulder. “Yes, uncle.”

Thorin throws a casual glance inside the room. “Is Kili here?”

“No. We only saw each other at breakfast and then he left to get ready for work whilst I finished making our lunch.”

Thorin nods. At least Kili had returned to his own room at some point. “Very well. Then let us go. We are already opening up late because of the Council meeting and I do not want to lose any more trade than necessary today.”

Fili quickly closes up his chamber and jogs after Thorin towards the stables.

The ride into the town where they work in the blacksmith’s is less than an hour and they arrive well before the sun reaches its highest peak. They have not lost too much time this morning. The meetings are held very early to accommodate the fact that the council members all have their day jobs to fulfil as well as their council duties. One day … One day his people will be able to just fulfil their duties in his court without having to also work themselves to the bone for the tall men in the valleys.

“Will you still be working in the smithy once you are crowned king, Thorin?” Fili enquires as they are setting up ready to open up.

“Mm,” Thorin mumbles. His apprentices have already stoked the fires, but he is blowing more heat into the furnace. “What do you expect me to do, Fili?” he glances over at his nephew. “Sit on my throne and demand my people bring me handfuls of gold?”

Fili cringes, he had not meant to insult Thorin. “I … I am sorry, uncle. I meant not offence…”

Thorin sighs deeply. “You did not. I am just … Something happened at the meeting this morning and it concerns me.”

Fili glances up, but Thorin turns his back and says no more. He does not probe; if Thorin wants to tell him he will of his own accord and if he does not that then Fili sticking his nose in will only earn him his uncle’s disapproval.

Custom is busy for the rest of the day. From the moment Fili throws open the big barn doors, the men and women of the town are queued up. Fili spends most of the morning assisting Frirk, the farrier, and does not see Thorin again until early into the afternoon. By that time his uncle is covered in soot and the sweat is dripping off him. And as Fili observes him, waiting for him to finish the piece he is working on, he tries to see what his brother sees. It is not hard. Thorin is a handsome dwarf. Although he is never been anything other than his uncle and his king and Fili harbours no amorous feelings for him, he cannot deny his uncle is a very attractive buck. And he is powerful, both physically and in rank. Fili knows the other bucks all swoon over him and he imagines it will be the same amongst the dams. If Thorin but clicked his fingers he could have his bed kept warm every night of the year. And yet he has held out for all these years, never giving in to the desires of the flesh, until Kili came of age. Kili, of all dwarves - his own nephew!

When Fili had first found out about his brother and uncle he had hardly been surprised. He had always known his brother had a soft spot for Thorin and his only surprise had been Thorin returning Kili’s advances. He had not worried about it. It may have seemed a little odd to see two bucks that were so closely related, court each other, but he had not thought more of it. No-one had ever told him it was wrong. They lived their sheltered lives in the safety of the royal quarters and he knew no better. He had only known it was to be kept a secret because Thorin had urged him to. But he had thought that perhaps the king did not wish to broadcast his relationship so soon. After all, he was not just sleeping with Kili. He saw him as his soulmate and that would give Kili a very high-ranking status indeed.

But yesterday his mother had found out about them and her reaction had frightened the life out of Fili. When she had returned from Thorin’s chambers she had slammed her own door closed with such force that is had echoed through the royal quarters like thunder. And Fili had run over to see what was going on. His mother was fiery, like all the dark-haired Durins were, but never to that extend and she certainly did not slam doors like a juvenile.

When he had carefully opened the door to his mother’s chambers and stuck his head around the corner, he had found Dis sobbing across her desk. He had run over to her, worried sick about what was wrong, and thrown his arms around him. And so they had sat together in silence for a long time, until eventually she had glanced up at him.

“Fili, you know who is courting your brother?” she had asked quietly. It was not so much a question as a seeking of confirmation.

Fili had swallowed hard. He could not say - Thorin had expressly forbidden him to say anything to his mother. All he could do was nod.

“And do you know what would happen if anyone else found out about them?”

“No,” he had answered honestly.

She had taken his face in her cupped hands and brought hers so close to his that their noses had touched. “Fili, what your uncle is doing with Kili is very wrong. Their blood runs too close. Their courtship is considered a crime and a sin. If anyone but those who know find out, they could be severely punished.”

Fili’s eyes had grown wide with fright. “How severely?”

And his mother had told him her fears and had watched the blood drain from her son’s face. “Do they not know this?”

“I don’t know if Kili does. But my brother certainly does!” Dis had growled softly, letting go of Fili’s cheeks as she had wiped away her tears.

“Then why does he …?”

“Because love can be blind, my son.”

Fili jumps from his daydream as a large hand touches down on his shoulder. “Lunch?”

He glances up into his uncle’s grey blue eyes and nods, following him towards the back of the small stone building. They sit down on the opposite benches and share the fresh bread dried meat and a skin of ale.

“Thorin,” Fili begins, flushing deeply as he does so. He glances around, making sure there is no-one around them. But the other two apprentices had gone out for their lunch and the smithy is closed whilst they are having their break. “Is it true what ma has told me? That you and my brother …” He takes a deep breath, shrinking under his uncle’s intense stare. “Could you really be executed for it?”

He looks at his uncle, who has grown very still, the drinking skin hovering in the air as if he has frozen in time. Slowly he lowers it as he lowers his eyes. Then he nods solemnly. “Yes, Fili. That is why it must remain the closest of secrets.”

“Do you really believe he is your soulmate?” He shudders at his own question. Although Thorin has cared for him from the day he was born and they too have a close bond, he has always had a great admiration for his uncle and has never been as frank with him as Kili had.

But Thorin smiles kindly at him. “I do. Fili, I would not be risking both our lives like this if I did not.”

“I don’t understand,” Fili sighs. “How can your blessing be a sin?”

“I do not know, Fili. I am not a priest.” He lowers his voice a little. “But I am more inclined to trust my own feelings and what I believe Mahal has told me and your brother, than what an old priest who has a personal vendetta over the way I run my kingdom has to say on his behalf.”

Fili nods at that. It makes sense. But nonetheless he is worried now. Thorin has taught him what is good and what is not from a very young age. And that there are repercussions when you are misbehaving. By his beard, Thorin had taught him those repercussions oft enough! So to now watch his uncle do something with his baby brother that is considered so heinous that it could warrant the death penalty ... Can that really be true? Would their people really choose to kill their own because they love each other? Surely that is not right.

“Fili, it will be alright,” Thorin tries to sooth the obvious anxiety in his nephew. “Everyone will be busy with my coronation and then the rebuilding of our home here. No-one will care what I do in my own chambers. I promise you that we will be careful. I mean your brother no harm, you must believe me when I say this.”

“I do, Thorin.”

“I love him.”

Fili stares at Thorin wide-eyed. And the look in those bright eyes tells him everything he needs to know. That Thorin is not out to risk Kili’s life for his own pleasure. Quite the opposite. That he is willing to risk his own life because of his love for him.

***

Normally Fili would be working in the blacksmith's with Thorin all day and help him lock up, but after their private conversation Thorin had told Fili to return to Ered Luin and have the rest of the afternoon off with his brother. The king could see how worried Fili was over his little brother and it hurt him to think he was the cause of it.

Kili is working in the armoury as he did most days. When he was not hunting it was his duty as Captain of the Guard to ensure that their weapon stock were kept at the ready, even more so nowadays when rumours of bandits and orc attacks had become more frequent.

“Fee!” he calls out when he sees his blond brother appear. “Why aren’t you with Thorin?”

“I was. He gave me the afternoon off. It’s still light outside. Would you like to go for a quick hike? It has been ages since we have been out together.”

Kili puts down the bow he was stringing. “Absolutely!”

It feels great to be out and about together, chasing each other across the open plains towards the forest edge. On this side of the fortress the woods are within easy reach on horseback and before long they are dismounted and sat on a tree trunk eating some of the sweet dried berries that Kili had managed to sneak out.

“So what do you think about us staying here in Ered Luin?” Fili begins, but the archer has more burning news on his mind that he wants to share.

“Thorin took me last night!” he blurts out, making Fili almost choke on his berries.

“Kili!” he hisses, flicking his head around. But as expected they appear to be alone. “Hold your tongue. You should not speak about this out in the open!”

Kili frowns at him. “I thought you wanted to know! You have been pestering me for long enough to hear what Thorin is like in bed!”

Fili smothers Kili’s mouth with his hand and brings his lips close to his brother’s ear. “Kili, be quiet or I swear I will rip your tongue out myself!”

Kili fights him, but Fili had always been the stronger of the two and eventually his brother gives up the struggle. When he slowly releases him, Kili jumps up and scowls angrily at him. “What is the matter with you?!”

Fili jumps up too and stares up at his brother. “Mother told me.”

“Told you what?”

“What would happen if anyone found out about the two of you. This is serious, Kee. I had no idea how serious. Do you even know? Is getting laid really worth risking your life for?”

Kili flares. “How dare you make him sound like some cheap fuck! I am in love with him. He is my One!”

Fili stares back. He opens his mouth, but he does not know what to say.

“There is no-one here to hear it, brother,” Kili continues his tirade. “Already I have to keep my mouth shut and skulk around like a thief, just because I love someone. Don’t you think I am sick of that too? I have just had the greatest night of my life and you have to ruin it with more tales of doom and despair!” Tears are glistening in his deep brown eyes now, whether from hurt or anger or both he is not sure. “You are the only one I _can_ tell! Unlike you I can’t brag to every buck who cares to listen that I got laid last night.” His last sentence is just a sob, “I just wanted you to be happy for me!” And he turns on his heels and runs towards the nearest tree, climbing it like a frightened squirrel until he has disappeared into the branches of the evergreen.

“KilI!” Fili shouts from the ground below. “Get down here!”

“No! Go away!”

“Please. I am sorry. Come down here now.”

“No!”

He can hear the rustling overhead and catches a glimpse of his brothers boots. “I can see you up there.”

“Then come and get me,” Kili challenges.

Fili had never been as good at climbing trees as his brother had. In fact the last time he had attempted it he had slipped and fallen and nearly broken his arm and Thorin had given him the worst admonishment he had had in a very long time. But he is not going to give up that easily and soon he finds himself on the branch below his brother.

“Well well, look at you,” Kili teases. “Amazing the things you can do when you want to.”

Fili glares at him and climbs the last bit until he is seated next to his brother on the thick branch.

“Why did you follow me up here?” Kili enquires. “You hate climbing trees.”

“I do. But I love you. And I am sorry if I hurt you. I know you were excited to tell me and I did not mean to steal your thunder. I am just worried about you.”

“You have been worried about me from the minute I learnt to walk, Fee. You worry far too much. I know there is a risk in what Thorin and I are doing. But everything we do in life carries a risk. You could hurt yourself on the forge. I could injure myself hunting. A dragon could come and burn our home down tomorrow. We cannot stop living just in case something bad happens. And I do mean it when I say I love him. He is everything to me, Fee. I would die for him.”

“Please don’t.”

Kili stares ahead. These are not just empty words. If it came to it, he would. He would happily give his life for Thorin, he is absolutely certain of this.

Fili glances around, but there is no-one else within hearing distance. “Alright, tell me then, little brother. What was he like? What was _it_ like? Did it hurt as much as they say it does? “

Kili giggles, “That's a lot of questions all of a sudden, Fee. It was... “ he sighs blissfully as he recalls the feeling of Thorin taking him, “wonderful. It really was. A little uncomfortable when he first entered me. But we took it real slow and oh, Fili, he felt so good! He made me come twice! “

Fili smirks, “You little beast. Such a horny little rascal you are. “

“Says you! “ Kili cries out and shoves his brother, careful not to push him off the branch. “I hear you have quite a reputation of being a fervent lover, big brother. And I will never catch up with that!”

“How did he take you?”

Kili sways softly on the branch as his eyes go dreamy again. “First he lay on top of me. And then he turned me onto my side and took me from behind. He is amazing, Fili. So tender and yet so firm.”

“I cannot believe you are the first to be bedded by the king. You’d think you were something special,” he teases.

Kili scowls, but then they both chuckle. And Kili shuffles a little closer until his brother’s arm wraps around his shoulder.

“I wish we could just be together like the other soulmates,” Kili sighs. “I don’t like feeling like I have done wrong when I am so happy when I am with him.”

“I know, brother. I wish for that too.”

“You don’t think it is wrong, do you? You don’t think I am a criminal for loving him?”

Fili shakes his head. “No. But what I think matters not.”

“It matters to me.”

***

“I picked up on an interesting conversation today,” the skinny guy with the thin black moustache brags to his drinking mates. It is crowded and noisy in the tavern tonight.

“What’s that then?” his buddy enquires as he tries to pinch the barmaid’s behind, earning him a slap and a load of laughter from those around him.

“You know that dwarf that runs the smithy up town? The one who claims he’s some sort of prince.”

The others laugh loudly again. They all know who he means. “That short-ass is a right stuck up little so-and-so,” another, bald headed man, chips in. “If he is some sort of royalty then howcome he is a sweating like a pig working his butt off in our smithy for some meagre wage, eh? I don’t think he has it all there.”

“You’re wrong,” a blond with a large scar across his cheek says. “He is a dwarf prince alright. They say they fled their mountain home in the far northeast when a dragon destroyed it.  They live up in the mountains here now.”

“Shut up, you two,” the first growls. “You know the blond one who started working there a few years back. The one with the funny braids. He is his nephew right. Now just so happens that I walked round the back of the smithy earlier and I heard them talking. Could hear them clear as day through the vents. They were talking about sin and crime and a whole lot of political dwarf-nonsense I did not understand. But the older one, he said he could be executed for what he’d done.”

There are gasps around.

“What did he do?” the blond asks.

“I am not sure. But then he went on to say that there was going to be a coronation. That means he is going to be king, you understand! And dwarf kings have gold!”

“What has that got to do with us?”

“Listen, you idiot! If there is something that he does not want others to find out, something that we know about …”

“Oooh, you want to extort money from him!” A large, wide man who has not spoken up until now interjects. “I like the sound of that! So do you have any idea what it is?”

“All I know is that it has something to do with his other nephew. He said they could both be executed for it. I think I heard him say that he loves him.”

The blond spits his ale across the table. “You mean … The dirty bastard!”

“Oh shut up. Like you never wanted to fuck your cousin. And anyway, they’re dwarves. We all know their feasts are one big orgy,” the bald one grins.

“Well maybe them short ones are less loose than we think they are,” the initiator of the conversation says. “Whatever it is, we just need to find out more. And then that pint-sized asshole is going to be handing over a lot of that dwarvish gold to make us keep his dirty little secret.”


	6. Threat

“Hey, short stuff!” Ryle, shouts across to the shy red-haired dwarf-boy. “Oi, you there, dwarf!”

This time the boy turns around in surprise. “Me?” he asks softly, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape route.

Ryle smiles a bright smile at him, although the display of his rotten teeth does nothing to make him look amicable. “Come ‘ere, boy. What’s yer name?”

“O… Ori,” the red-haired dwarf stammers as he shuffles over. He is no boy. Even amongst his people, he has recently matured at the tender age of seventy-five, being almost twice the age of the tall man staring down at him. But with his blunt haircut, his thick red braids and his chin curtain he looks younger than he is, even to his own kind. He feels uncomfortable under the broad stare of the dark-haired man, flanked by two even taller blondes. What do these men of the valley want from him? He comes here every week on the same day at the same time to purchase supplies; parchment and ink but also foods and other items that cannot be bought within the markets of _Khagolabbad Fahamu_. He likes to come and go as quickly as possible. Most of the towns people are not unkind as the dwarves bring trade and skill to their town. But they intimidate him nonetheless.

“Wanna earn a few coins?” Ryle asks.

Ori cocks his head. “Doing what, master _dubanûn_?” he asks shyly. He jumps as the man puts his hand on his shoulder, dragging him alongside him in a conspiring kind of manner as he bends himself low to his ear. 

“My friends and I, we just wanted to learn a little about dwarf culture,” Ryle grins. “We are almost neighbours and yet we know so little about y’ little people. Us valley-folk, we don’t come up to the mountains much.”

Ori wants very much to shrug the invasive hand from his shoulder and pull himself away from the man with the stinking breath. But he dares not. “W… what can I do?”

“Come, lemme buy ya’ drink and then we can talk,” Ryle winks at his mates as he steers the reluctant dwarf towards one of the backstreet taverns without waiting for an answer to his invitation.

Ori tries to make himself even smaller as he is squished between the two broad-build blondes, one with a scar across his cheek and the other with a toothless grin. He wishes he could just slide under the table and run away. His eyes flick around the dingy tavern. It is nothing like the noisy, joyful taverns of the dwarves, which feel warm and welcoming. This feels oppressive and unsafe. Like anyone here could put a knife in your back for looking at them in the wrong way.

“So…” Ryle says as he shoves a mug of the weak ale that the valley-men brew in Ori’s direction. “There’s just a couple of questions we wanna ask.”

Ori looks at him carefully, not liking where this is going or being stuck here between these men’s folk for that matter.

“Ey, don’t look so worried lad,” Griff, the blond on his right with the scar across his face grins. “Nothing to worry yerself about.”

“No, nothing at all,” Ryle smiles, again showing his less than perfect dentures. “We just heard some rumours about a coronation. Is that true?”

At that Ori smiles brightly. “Oh yes, master _dubanûn_. Thorin Oakenshield, the brave son of Thrain, is going to be crowned king.”

“Is he the black-haired dwarf who works in the forge up town?”

“Yes he is,” Ori beams eagerly.

Ryle smirks at his two companions. “So the old king is dead then is he?” Ori looks at him in confusion at that. “That this … Thorin? … is being crowned king now?”

Ori shakes his head, “No, you misunderstand, master _dubanûn_. Thorin was going to take us back to the Lonely Mountain, east of Mirkwood. Our rightful home. Once he had killed the dragon. His father was lost long ago on the same quest. But Thorin has declared Ered Luin our home now. And the Council has accepted his claim to Durin’s throne.”

“Have they now?” Ryle narrows his eyes. Who does this dwarf think he is, calling himself king over what have not been dwarvish lands for centuries. Even more reason to teach the arrogant brat some humility. Then he smiles a sickly sweet smile again, “And will there be a queen at his side?”

Ori laughs shyly. “It does not work like that, master _dubanûn_. Us dwarves, we do not bind ourselves unless we find our soulmate. Only the bravest amongst us find their soulmate during their mortal life. Most of us have to wait until we kneel before Mahal. Aule.”

Ryle, Griff and Forbes exchange a sneering glance. For folk who live such long lives they place a ridiculous amount of importance on the afterlife. “I see… So your king … he is not very brave after all then?” Ryle smirks.

Ori flashes a bright red. “He … I … I did not mean that. It is not for us mortals to decide.”

The men around him laugh, making him feel as small as a mouse. He cringes as Forbes slaps him across the back, pushing the air from his lungs.

“We’re just teasing ya,” Griff laughs. “So ehm … if there is no queen, is there anyone else who warms the king’s bed at night?”

Ori’s mouth falls open in astonishment. Such insolence! Do these men honestly think that he would share such private information about his king with these town’s men? Then again Thorin’s celibacy is widely known. It has been an honourable sacrifice he has made during their exile. And he decides it is the right thing to uphold his king’s honour.  “There is not,” he answers quietly, flushing even brighter at that. “He … he withholds his pleasure for the honour of those who died in the Great Battle.”

Forbes spits out his ale as he laughs loudly. But Griff has a glint in his eyes. _So the so-called dwarf prince is playing the honourable virgin is he? That is hardly the impression he got from overhearing the conversation with his nephew the other day._ But he keeps his thoughts to himself for now. “That is very honourable indeed,” he says sarcastically.

“Now, just one last question. So if dwarves do not marry, do they just fuck around?”

Ori chokes softly. Are all _dubanûnh_ this crude? Why are these men asking him such inappropriate questions? “We … we are free to court,” he stutters.

“I see. Anyone?”

“N … no. There are a lot of rules.”

“Really now? What rules?”

Ori’s eyes flick about. He wants to leave now. He does not want to talk about such private customs to these men of the valley. But he is trapped. “Only one of higher rank can make an offer of courtship to a lower ranking dwarf,” he almost whispers. “And courtship remains within the communities outside the festival periods.”

Ryle has no idea what either of that means and he doesn’t care either.  “What about family? Can you _court_ , say a sister? Or … an uncle?”

Ori’s eyes grow large. “N… no. That would not be acceptable.”

“No? What would happen if one did?”

“W… why do you want to know?” he squeaks, shifting uncomfortably. He has never done anything wrong like that. He has always been a good, law-abiding dwarf.

“Just answer the question,” Frobes growls at him.

“I … I don’t know. They would be brought to justice. I am not sure what the punishment is for laying with one’s own blood …” he cringes at the sick notion. “But it … it would be severe. It is a sin.”

Ryle leans back in satisfaction. “Thanks, master dwarf. Y’have been most kind in teaching us about yer customs,” he grins menacingly. He takes a small pouch from his belt and throws it across the table. “For yer troubles.” And he nods to Griff to make way to allow the red-head to leave. The dwarf needs no telling twice. He is up and out of the tavern like a ferret.

Ryle leans forward to his companions. “So...” he smirks. “If our dwarf prince is doing the dirty with his nephew, sounds like he could be in a whole load’a trouble if someone found out … What do ye reckon boys, shall we pay the smithy a visit tonight, when master Thorin is about to lock up?”

***

“Apologies, _dubanûnh_ , we are closed now,” Fili says to the men who have banged hard on the blacksmith’s door. “Please come back tomorrow morning and we will be happy to serve you.” He is about the push the door closed again to finish helping his uncle pack up so that they can go home.

But the dark-haired man puts his foot between the door and the frame preventing him from shutting it and then pushes it open hard, sending Fili tumbling backwards. “Oh I think your uncle would very much like to serve us now when he hears my business proposal,” he grins a dirty grin at the young prince. “Where is he?”

Thorin steps out from the shadows, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Fili, take the saddlebags out,” he says calmly in his deep voice and nods his head to the back of the smithy ordering him to leave them. Fili looks at him with worry in his eyes. He does not want to leave his uncle alone with these menacing looking valley-men. But Thorin’s stern look tells him he is not to question him and he reluctantly leaves to saddle the ponies. 

Once his nephew has left, Thorin knits his brow together at the dark-haired man in front of him. He knows this is going to be trouble. Certain things cut across the boundaries of any race or culture and the cold look in those hollow eyes together with the crooked smirk are enough of a warning that these men are not here to invite him around for dinner. “As my nephew has told you, we are closed now,” he says evenly.

Ryle grins again, “We know that, dwarf.” He nods to his mates to close the sliding door behind him, leaving the five of them in a stifling semi-darkness. He forgets that Thorin has the upper hand now, being used to the dimmed light of mountain halls dug deep into the earth itself. And as he sticks out his hand to grab the dwarf by his tunic, Thorin’s hand clasps around his arm and twists him into a painful lock.

“Do not make such a mistake again, _dubanûn_ ,” he growls softly, “or you will need a medic rather than a smith to put you back together again.” He lets go of the man and shoves him back. “Now leave,” and he turns around to finish what he was doing.

But this time four strong arms grab him hard by both shoulders and push him hard onto the floor. He may be much stronger than these untrained men of the valleys, but with two holding him down and the heavy bald man straddling his back he is unable to move enough to get a grip. And he coughs as the brown boots of his dark-haired nemesis kick dust into his face. “Now now,” Ryle smirks, “y’are a feisty one aren’t ye? And y’ve not even heard my offer. That’s no way to start negotiations now is it, dwarf?” He spits the last word into the dust, little specks landing in Thorin’s hair.

“Negotiate what?” Thorin groans as the weight of the man on top of him in making it hard to draw in air.

Ryle kneels down, motioning his friends to loosen their grip just a little. He pulls Thorin’s head up by his hair, making him face him awkwardly. “Now, are ya going to be a good dwarf and listen to my proposal? We can do this with ye lying here in the dirt like the filthy mountain digger y’are. Or … if you promise me ya’ll behave I’ll let you up.”

Thorin scowls, but nods as far as the grip on his hair allows him. Ryle smiles broadly and then he rams Thorin’s face hard against the floor underneath, listening with satisfaction to the sound of his nose breaking, before he motions his henchman to let go of their prisoner. The two blondes hoist Thorin to his feet, but hold onto him, much to Thorin’s fury as blood runs into his beard.

“So…,” Ryle brings his face close to Thorin’s, breathing his dirty breath into his face, “you seem to think that you can call yourself king of the mountains here? _Our_ mountains?”

Thorin narrows his eyes, flinching as the pain shoots through his face. But he is not going to give this piece of filth the satisfaction and pushes the pain to the back of his mind. “Khagolabbad have been dwarvish lands since the dawn of days you ignorant human,” he hisses. “Men-folk have never lived there. My people and I settled here before your father was even born, you man-child. Do not claim to know what you are talking about when it comes to the heritage of my people.”

Ryle slaps the dwarf hard across his already broken face, but he hardly flinches. “Ye think y’re really quite som’mat, don’t ya,” he growls back. “Claiming yer high and mightiness over yer heritage. Well, that’s interesting. As I understand ye don’t take yer own customs and laws all that seriously, dwarf-prince!”

At that Thorin stills and he looks deeply into the cold eyes in front of him. “What do you mean by that?” he asks quietly.

The look on his captor’s face is pure evil as he grins at him with satisfaction. “How much do you value yer life and that of yer secret lover, dwarf?” Thorin’s heart skips a beat, but he tries to keep the stoic mask in place. These towns’ folk cannot know about him and Kili. How could they? Kili has only been to the town a handful of times and never with Thorin. He stares back defiantly, but Ryle just laughs. “Not such a cheeky tongue now, have we?”

“I do not know of what you speak,” Thorin says, trying to sound calm and composed, although worry is fluttering through his chest.

“Really now? I thought dwarves had a good memory. Have ya already forgotten that ya told that pretty blond nephew of yers that ye love his brother?” At that Thorin’s eyes grow dark and although he keeps his composure Ryle knows he has hit gold. “Ah yes, a truly beautiful love story, I’m sure,” he smiles deviously. “And that whilst _yer people_ , he sneers, “seem to think you are the blushing virgin.” He strokes his thumb along Thorin’s cheek. “I wonder how they would feel if they learnt the truth? Hm?”

Thorin draws spit and spits into the man’s face. “Don’t touch me, you filth!” he growls.

But Ryle grabs his chin hard as he wipes the spittle of his own cheek. “That is the last time ye get to do that, prince charming,” he smirks menacingly. “I think it is time ye learnt that ye really wanna keep me as yer best friend. Cuz I have also learnt that dwarves don’t approve of one of their own fucking his nephew. That in fact they are quite repulsed by that idea. Imagine if they found out that their soon-to-be- virgin-king is in fact getting fingered by his own blood?” He runs a finger along Thorin’s throat, smiling an evil smile, “I believe that it could cost ya and yer little lover yer heads.”

Thorin thrashes in vain against the men holding him. But he cannot fight himself loose.

“So that got me thinking,” Ryle continues as he walks away from Thorin, leaving the dwarf prince scowling helplessly at his back, “how much ye value yer lover’s life? How much of yer gold y’are willing to give to me to keep yer dirty business under wraps?” He swirls round.

But Thorin just laughs. “Gold? You think the halls of my home are filled with gold?” He shakes his head at the idiot in front of him. “Do you honestly think that I would be working in this filthy town if I still possessed such wealth? I am sorry to disappoint you, _amadáin_ , but blackmailing me is not going to earn you the riches you seek. I have nothing to give you.”

Ryle flashes at this flaw in his plan. He should have thought of that. He should have realised that if the dwarf prince had gold he would not be getting his hands dirty like this. He flusters for a moment, unsure what to do next. But he is not going to give up that easily. “I do not believe ya,” he spits. “Ye may not have halls full of gold. But if y’are king then y’have power.” He steps close to Thorin again, looking down on him. “I am sure ye can convince yer subjects to help ya out in these hard times. Ye have four suns to bring me five hundred silver coins,” he grins. “Or ye may find it hard to put a crown on when yer head’s in a bucket, _king_.” He spits in Thorin’s face, just because he can.

Then he nods to his buddies, “Just give him a little reminder, so he won’t forget to keep his promise.”

***

 Fili watches the men leave and storms inside. “Thorin!” he calls out as he finds his uncle slumped on the floor.

But his uncle scrambles to his feet, swatting his hand away. “I am fine,” he says, but flinches even as he says so.

“You are not fine,” Fili scolds. “What did they do to you? Why were they here?”

Thorin looks at his nephew. He does not want Fili to see his weakness. It is bad enough that Kili has found his weak spot. But he needs to be strong for his heir. “Honestly, I am fine, Fee,” he tries to smile, but the reassurance of his words fades as he flinches at his broken nose and spits big heaps of blood into the dust.

Fili wraps his arms around Thorin and for a moment his uncle freezes under the unexpected touch. He has not held Fili this close for years. But after the initial surprise, he is grateful for the comforting embrace and he wraps Fili in his arms. “I am sorry, little Fee,” he whispers. “I have done your brother such wrong.”

“No, Thorin,” Fili answers to Thorin’s surprise. “You have made my brother so happy. That cannot be wrong.”

But Thorin sighs. “I wish it were so.”

Fili releases the embrace now and looks up at his uncle. “What has this got to do with Kili? Why did these men hurt you, uncle?”

Thorin runs his hand through Fili’s blond locks, playing with the braids in them. “They heard us talking the other day. When I told you that I love your brother. I should have been more careful. I had not thought …” His face clouds over. “I seemed to have stopped thinking a long time ago,” he growls in frustration with his own carelessness and flaw. “I should never have …” He sits down heavily, flinching again as a pain shoots through his back and his right leg. And he smiles softly as Fili kneels by him. So much like he used to when he was a cosset, knelt in front of the fire as Thorin had told him and his brother stories of Azsâlul'abad. He softly strokes Fili’s hair again and suddenly he feels weary and sad that those days are gone. And much of that is his own fault.

“Thorin?” Fili takes his hand and asks softly as his uncle seems to have stopped talking mid-sentence.

Thorin is shaken out of his thoughts by the touch. He looks at Fili as the remorse fills him. “They want money,” he states. “In order to keep the secret.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred silver coins.”

Fili gasps. That is a fortune! They do not have such money. In Azsâlul'abad, yes. In Azsâlul'abad lies the wealth of their people, buried under the feet of a fire-breathing dragon. “How will you …?” he asks.

“I will think of something,” Thorin sighs. What, he does not know yet. The men had suggested he’d levy the ransom from his people. But he could never do that. How could he take what little they have in order to protect his sin? He attempts to smile reassuringly at his nephew as he drags him back into his arms. “Don’t worry, little one. I will think of something,” he says as he plants a kiss on Fili’s hair, groaning as the touch against his nose sends a jolt of pain through him. “Now let us go home. Dis will be worried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dubanûn(h) = valley-man (men)  
> Khagolabbad = the Blue Moutains (Ered Luin)  
> amadáin = idiot


	7. The Right Thing

He had hoped to be able to sneak back into the mountain fortress and head straight for Oin’s quarters to get his injuries seen to.  He had hoped to avoid bumping into the two dwarves he least wants to see him hurt like this before he has a chance to clean himself up a little so that he will look slightly less battered than he does with the blood still clotting in his facial hair. But as soon as they leave the stables Kili comes running up to them through the long hallway.

“Thorin, Fili, you are back! You …” he comes to a skidding hold as soon as he gets close enough to notice Thorin’s bruised and bloodied face. “Thorin!! By Mahal, what has happened??!” he exclaims with fright, his eyes bulging at the sight of his lover in such a state. And Thorin cringes; this has not at all gone as planned.

But before Thorin has a chance to reply, Fili jumps in. “Oh Kee, we’re so glad to be back. We were ambushed by robbers on the way back from the valley. There were four of them and they threatened to kill me if we did not hand over today’s takings and one put a knife to my throat. But uncle Thorin,” he smiles brightly at his uncle who just stares at him in wonder at the fantastic story, “he took three of them on at once! As you can see he got a few scrapes at he did so, but he gave them back twice what he got. No three times!  And they fled in fear of their lives.” He throws his arms around Thorin. “I owe you my life, uncle,” he smiles. He had known instinctively that Kili should not know the truth for fear of him doing something stupid. That until Thorin has figured out a way to deal with the extortion threat it has to remain a secret between the two of them.

Thorin returns the embrace tentatively; embarrassed to be given credit for something that never happened. But Kili too joins in the hug and he silently accepts being wrapped in the loving warmth of both his nephews.

“Now, I should go and see Oin,” he says quietly after a few moments. “Get cleaned up before I show my face at the dinner table or Dis will have a fright.”

Fili is the first to let go. “Yes you should, Thorin,” he smiles, giving him a surreptitious wink before he turns to his brother. “Come Kee, will you help me carry these bags whilst Thorin goes to speak with Oin?”

Kili looks up at Thorin, his eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers.

Thorin gives him a tired smile, “Do as your brother says, little Kee. I will join you for dinner very shortly.”

Kili cannot let go of him just yet. “Are you sure you will be okay?” he asks softly.

Thorin gently pries his arms loose. “I am not going to die from a few scrapes and knocks, _nia_. It looks worse than it is. Now go with Fili please so that I can go and clean myself up.”

Kili reluctantly follows his brother, carrying one of the heavy saddlebags. And Fili almost regrets his story as Kili begins to interrogate him about every detail. He just hopes he has done well enough to make it sound believable and that he hasn’t contradicted himself somewhere. But Kili seems too worried about Thorin to notice if he has.

“He will be okay, won’t he Fee?” he asks for the hundredth time.

Fili throws his free arm around him. “He will, Kee. He is one of the strongest and bravest dwarves we know, right?”

And Kili nods, although the worried frown does not leave his forehead.

***

“Thorin!” Oin gasps as his king stands in the doorway, congealed blood clinging to his face and his nose pointing at an unnatural angle. As he steps into the room, the healer notices that the dwarf prince is limping a little too. “By my beard, Thorin, what has happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a brawl!”

Thorin smiles curtly and decides to uphold Fili’s version of events as he briefly talks about the so-called robbery that led to his injuries. In the meantime Oin has prepared some bowls with warm water and starts to dab a wet cloth against Thorin’s face. Thorin draws in a sharp breath, but grits his teeth and lets his old friend do his job.

“I am going to have to reset your nose,” Oin states matter-of-factly. Thorin appreciates his calm and to the point demeanour. It makes what is to come no less uncomfortable, but he values Oin treating him like the warrior he is and not show him any unwanted pity or disapproval. “Do you want me to count to three?” Oin asks gently.

“Just do it,” Thorin growls, but when Oin suddenly presses hard against his nose he bites back a curse.

“There ya go,” the greying healer smiles. “Looking much better already. Now let me have a look at your leg.”

***

 When he turns up at the dinner table Kili is ready to jump up and fly around his neck, but Thorin, Dis and Fili all simultaneously call out his name in warning, making him shrink back in reprimand.

“The boys told me what happened,” Dis smiles warmly at her brother. He can just imagine that by now Fili and Kili have turned him into some great hero and that in the tale the assault has probably grown close to an army of men.  “Thank you, brother.” Thorin nods curtly, embarrassed still to be painted the hero in light of what had truly happened. “Are you badly hurt?”

“It is nothing,” Thorin waves his hand. “A few scrapes and a broken nose. Oin has fixed me up already, I will live,” he smirks. In a way it is nice that his kin are so worried about his well-being after such a minor altercation. It reminds him that the days of war and bloodshed are long since forgotten by his sister and never experienced by his nephews. Peacetime brings an odd sense of concern over such minor hurts, which would not have even been looked at by the medics in times of war.

“Maybe you should ask Dwalin to accompany you to town from now on. The roads are getting dangerous,” Dis says and her brother throws her a warning look. It is not for her to dictate how he travels or who with. “Do not get all proud with me, brother,” she scowls. “I care for your safety as much as I care for Fili’s. Besides, we cannot have you crowned king looking as bruised as you do now.”

“The coronation is not until the start of Muhudtuzakhmerag, this will be healed by then.”

Dis snorts. “Nonetheless I would feel better if you had someone accompany you on the road.”

Thorin says no more, annoyed that his sister should question his ability to look after himself and Fili. Although in fairness the state he is in her worries are not unfounded.

Once they have finished the evening meal Kili makes attempt to go over to Thorin, but he stops him at arm’s length. “I need to rest now, _nia_ ,” he smiles softly. “I will be fine, I promise.”

“But Thorin …” Kili whines softly, but his uncle places a finger against his lips.

“Be good, little Kee. We will talk tomorrow. Goodnight.” At that he turns round and leaves the dining hall, returning to his chambers.

Once inside his own rooms he bolts the door, expecting Kili to follow him. Sure enough he hears the door handle being tried a short while later. His heart screams as he does his best to ignore the tapping against the door that follows. He would love nothing more than to let his nephew in and feel his warmth wash away all the anger and the disgrace and the hurt of the day. But those events have now shaken him back to his senses. What they are doing is wrong. It is delicious and wonderful and everything he has ever wanted, but it is also unaccepted amongst his people. The very people who place such trust and belief in him and will see him crowned king in less than a moon cycle. He has already betrayed that trust and dishonoured their faith in him. He knows he cannot undo what he has already done. And he has no regrets. Kili is his One, his soulmate and the love of his life. But tonight he needs to be alone to sort things out in his head and decide what he is going to do next.

He silently begs Kili to go away and return to his own chambers. Yet his heart bleeds as the tapping eventually stops. His hands are gripping his chair, his knuckles turning white as he has to stop himself from flinging the door open and calling after Kili. But when all goes quiet he is left alone with his unsatisfied wants and his demons once more. In a sickening kind of way it feels familiar. All is as it always was; before Kili came of age.

***

Sleep will not come to him that night. He knows there is no point in even attempting it; his brain is racing at a hundred knots as the events of the day play over and over in his mind. He sits in his arm chair, watching the fire slowly die down to smouldering embers, as he draw on his pipe thinking about every possible which way to resolve the situation he has found himself in.

Only briefly had he considered giving in to the demand of his abusers. Five hundred silver coins. It is simply not an option; firstly he does not have that kind of money and he has no way to come by it either in but four days. But more importantly he will never give in to extortion. He will soon be king and he cannot show such weakness to his enemies. Today they will hold him to ransom over Kili; what will it be tomorrow? It is just not a possibility; he must never yield to such demands and weaken his leadership. It is neither in his nature nor his upbringing. He was raised as the grandson of King Thror, the last of the dwarven kings. And in his position he cannot afford to be seen giving in under the threats of some common thug. He is a Durin king and the pride of his heritage will never allow him to bow such to another race.

The second thought that had come to him was just as improbable as the first. He would love nothing more than to run an axe through the four men who had humiliated him so. Especially the dark-haired piece of filth that seemed to be the leader of the witless three that somehow had managed to pin him down. Even if he didn’t get his own hands dirty, he knew that Dwalin would get it taken care of without question if he demanded it.  But although he would have no sleepless nights over ridding the world of such scum, he cannot risk the possible damage it would do to the relations between the dwarves of Ered Luin and the town’s folk. His people, including himself, are dependent on the trade with men. If it was somehow found out that the dwarves had murdered four of their people, even if they were the lowest amongst them, it could initiate an all-out war between their people, risking everything he has just offered to his subjects – a safe and peaceful home.

He blows out a long breath of smoke. Is there any other way?

He would normally speak to Balin about any matter that caused him such a headache, to get some sensible, pragmatic advice. Or he would run his ponderings by Dwalin, just to get matters of his chest. But what is the point? Telling Balin what happened will just affirm his friend’s opinion about his poor decisions. And Dwalin … he would probably march over and rip the bastards limb from limb even without his prompting. Neither would help the situation or make Thorin feel any better.

In the end he can only come to one conclusion. He will ignore the threat. After all, what are these valley-men going to do? He does not know if they have contacts within the dwarven community. They may do, although they are unlikely to be strong relations. His people are suspicious of other races; and they have good reason to be after the betrayal they had suffered in years past, being turned away and left to starve every which way they turned. And even if they carry out their threat and proclaim that Thorin is bedding his royal nephew, he is sure none of his people would believe the word of a thug from the valleys over their rightful king’s. There is no proof. They have not been as careful as they should have been, but they have never been caught other than by Dis. And he will just have to make sure things remain that way.

***

When he jolts awake he finds himself still sat in his chair. The fire has by now gone out and a chill has started to settle in the room. He stretches his sore muscles and immediately is reminded of the beating his body had taken the previous day. Oin had given him some herbs to help with the bruising, but it does not stop the aching he feels shooting down his leg and across his face. Slowly he drags himself to his feet, suddenly feeling every year he has walked on the surface of Arda count.

He has no idea what time it is, but it must be early in the morning still. He sighs deeply as he pulls his fur-lined chamber coat closer around him and unbolts the door. The boys will still be asleep, but he cannot delay the inevitable any longer or he will lose his resolve and his courage.

He had thought that deciding to give up on his dream to return to Azsâlul'abad would be the hardest decision in his life. And yet as he knocks softly on the door to his nephew’s bedchambers he knows that that was nothing compared to what he is about to do.

When he opens the door and stands in the doorway for a moment, watching the two brothers sleep on opposite sides of the room; the neatly braided blond hair sticking out above the furs on one side as opposed to the wild dark hair sprawled across the pillows on the other. For a moment he is back ten, twenty, thirty years again. Watching his nephews sleep soundly as he had done countless times when they were children and had fallen asleep to the sound of his deep voice singing the old tales of their homeland. But they are cossets no longer. Young bucks they are still, but adults nonetheless.  

He walks over to the brunet’s bed and sits down next to his sleeping body. His love looks so beautiful, so handsome and sweet in his dream state. He almost forgets himself as he watches the soft fluttering of the long dark eyelashes and the gentle breathing flowing forth from his lips. He finds himself bending forward towards those soft pink lips, wishing for just one last kiss …

“Kili,” he whispers softly as he catches himself. No, no more weakness, no more acceptance of what cannot be. “Kili, my love, wake up.” He gently shakes his nephew until he draws in a sharp breath and the eyes open slowly.

“Thorin?” Kili asks, confused as to why he finds his uncle sat on his bed. Then a smile paints across his face. “I thought you didn’t want to see me. I came to your rooms earlier.”

“I know you did,” Thorin answers back, but there is no smile there. “I am sorry I could not see you then.”

“That’s okay,” Kili yawns. “You are here now.” He shuffles the blankets down. “Do you … do you want to lie under the blankets with me?” he tries, giving Thorin his sweetest smile.

Oh how he wants nothing more than to say yes. To wrap his lover’s young body in his strong arms and hold him close and never ever let go of him again. “No, Kili,” he says instead and instantly Kili’s smile breaks.

“Oh,” the archer swallows. “I am sorry, I did not mean to offend.”

Thorin strokes his hand across his face. “You did not, my love. But … Can you sit up? I am sorry to wake you so early. But we need to talk. Before everyone else wakes up.” He glances over to Fili who is still fast asleep with his back to the both of them.

Kili stares at his uncle, worry filling up his chest at the stern look on his lover’s face. “Are you angry with me, uncle Thorin?” he asks in such an innocent , youthful manner that has nothing to do with what has recently come to pass between them, that Thorin is taken aback for a moment.

“Oh sweet love,” he whispers. “I am not angry at all. Come here. Let me hold you.”

Kili pushes himself up and then leans into the cuddle that Thorin is offering him, although Thorin winces as he wraps his arms tightly around him.

“Are you sore?” he asks softly.

“A little,” Thorin admits. “But I will be fine, do not worry about me, little Kee.”

“Of course I worry about you, Thorin,” Kili protests. “You are my One, my love.”

Thorin takes a deep breath as he strokes through his lover’s hair. “Kili,” he starts, “I want you to know that I have no regrets. That I have loved every minute of being with you. What we did together … it was amazing. Beautiful.”

“It … it was!” Kili squeaks, suddenly not liking where this conversation is going.

“And I love you so very much, _khuzdisimunuh_.”

Kili pushes himself upright. “Thorin, what is going on? Why have you come here to my room to tell me this? Please tell me.” He gently turns Thorin’s face so that their eyes meet, frowning sadly at his love’s swollen features.

“Kili, we cannot court,” Thorin says quietly, but at least he has the decency to look Kili in the eye as he says so.

Kili just looks at him blankly. “I know we cannot,” he responds eventually. “Why have you come to tell me this?”

“Because we have nonetheless, my little one. We have broken our laws. But I will not anymore. I will be king soon. I cannot be the one to show so little regards for our customs and our laws, Kili. You must understand. I will never love another, this I promise you. You are my One, _sanumùradûnuh_ , and always will be. Until the day I die you will be the only one on this earth for me and one day I will hold you in my arms again when we feast in Mahal’s halls. But until then … we must never do again what we have done.”

Kili gives no reaction. He just stares at Thorin, emotionless.

“Kee?” Thorin asks, when it feels like an eternity has passed and yet Kili still has not spoken.

“I do not understand,” Kili says quietly. “First you tell me we cannot be together. Then you kiss me and you teach me all about the pleasure we enjoyed together. You let me take you and I let you take me. And it was amazing! You too say it was amazing. And now … You do not want to see me again?”

The guilt threatens to suffocate him. He knows Kili is right. He should have done the right thing from the very start. He should never have touched his nephew the way he has. He has given him everything, his most sacred possession, his heart and soul. And now he is about to take it all away again. Why has he made things so much harder for the two of them? He lowers his gaze, as he whispers, “I know, Kili, I … I did wrong.”

Kili snorts. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

Thorin raises a surprised eyebrow. “Yes. Of course.” He frowns at Kili. He had expected drama. For Kili to be angry, sad … anything! But he seems to have just accepted it. And it is sending a sting of something unpleasant through Thorin. He realises that he had wanted Kili to fight for him. That he is disappointed that the young archer has just shrugged his shoulders at the idea of them never being intimate again, never again sharing that wonderful sensation of being joined as one.

But Kili leans himself forward and before Thorin has a chance to stop him he has stolen a kiss from his lips. “I love you,” he yawns, before he slides himself back under the sheets again.

“No, Kee,” Thorin scolds him. “No more kisses either.”

“Alright, Thorin. No more kisses,” Kili mumbles before his breath slows back to the rhythm of sleep.

Thorin stays a little longer, watching the brunet sleep. But in the end he knows he is torturing himself. He has done the right thing. Kili’s safety is more important than anything else. He has spent a lifetime being alone and he can do it again, for Kili’s sake. He carries the shame of his mistakes, but it is not too late to turn things around. He will honour Mahal’s blessing, he will never lie with another and will look forward to the day that the Mighty Lord of the Anvil will allow them to share their love openly when their time on Arda is served.

With a soft sigh he raises himself off the bed and leaves the boys’ chambers.

He has done the right thing. After months are making all the wrong decisions for the both of them, he has finally done the right thing.

Then why does it feel like his heart has just died?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muhudtuzakhmerag - Spring Festival, during the sixth month if the dwarven calendar (March and April)  
> khuzdisimunuh - my dwarf everlasting


	8. To Convince Another

As Kili wakes up he finds his brother already dressed and ready to go to work. “Morning,” he yawns, stretching his arms above his head.

“Morning,” Fili smiles to his brother. Then he frowns softly as a faint memory returns to him. “Was Thorin here last night? Or have I imagined that?”

Kili had forgotten about that in his half sleep, but he remembers it too now. His brow knits together as he recalls the odd conversation he had had with his uncle sat on the edge of his bed whilst he was drunk on sleep. “Yeah, he was.” He rubs his eyes, trying to focus his vision.

“Why?” Fili blurts out, before a blush taints his cheeks. It is probably not appropriate for him to ask that question now that the two of them are courting. And he is not sure if he wants to know what the two of them got up to whilst he was sleeping next to them.

But his brother offers the information up freely. “I am not really sure. He was going on about us not being able to court again. I don’t know why. I already know that. Something about the fact that he will be king soon. But that hardly matters, I cannot court him now either.”

Fili smirks. “But that doesn’t exactly stop you now does it.”

Kili shrugs his shoulders, throwing his brother a cheeky smile. “Would it stop you from kissing and making out with the love of your life?”

Fili sits himself down on Kili’s bed, much like Thorin had the night before. “Probably not,” he smiles. “But then I don’t have a soulmate like you so I don’t know.” He sighs and takes his brother’s hand. “I know I keep saying it and I know you feel like I am just going on. But just be careful little brother. There …” he takes a deep breath, making sure he is careful with what he is saying, “… there are evil people out there, Kee. People who do not care whether he is the love of your life or not. People who know that Thorin is powerful and influential and who would like nothing more than to see him ruined.”

“Why?” Kili asks innocently. “Thorin is a good king. He looks after his people. He has given us a home, food and shelter.”

“He has, I know, Kee. And many will be happy to see him on the throne. But there will always be those who do not agree with his rule. Who will question his decisions. That is the way of the world, Kili. There will always be enemies. Those who think they could do better or who just want to make a profit out of someone else’s demise. And those people will gladly see him fall from grace over the two of you breaking the law. Just watch out for that, baby brother. I do not want to see either of you get hurt, okay?”

Kili nods and throws his arms around Fili. “I love you, big brother.”

Fili grins, returning the hug. “Love you too, little Kee.”

***

“Thorin?” Dwalin is an early riser and fortunately he is already dressed and ready to inspect the morning guard before they relieve the nightwatch when Thorin bangs on his door. “By Mahal, what has happened to you?” Thorin’s bruises have come out richly now, painting an array of colours alongside his nose, bleeding into the soft skin under his eyes.

But Thorin waves a hand, silencing any questions. “I need you to come with me and Fili today. And for the next week at least,” he states evenly. He would probably have asked Dwalin anyway after what had happened. But now it feels like he is doing what Dis had asked of him and it is souring his mood.

“To the forge?” Dwalin raises an eyebrow. Sometimes, when there is a lot of work on, Thorin asks him to help out. But business has been quiet these last few months, Thorin had said so himself.

“To the forge, yes. But only to escort us. You are free to go thereafter until we close up at night.” He turns his back to leave the room. “Be at the stables as soon as you can.” And at that he walks out, leaving Dwalin with many questions he knows he will not get an answer to.

***

The first two day pass without any hassle. There is no trouble on the road – as there never was – and there is no trouble at the forge. Dwalin accompanies them in the mornings and helps close up in the evenings before escorting them back. And so far Thorin has still not told him why he is all of a sudden, after so many years, on guard duty for Thorin’s normal daily undertakings.  But Thorin knows that he has but two more days to tell him the truth. The deadline for the pay-off is looming. He has already told Fili he is excused on that day and although the blond had put up a good argument he would not have his heir put in unnecessary danger over what was ultimately his flaw. But Dwalin would be there when he would tell the valley-men to go _ishkh khakfe andu null_ and send them away empty handed.

He had not seen much of Kili during those tense few days. He had chosen to have dinner in his chambers, which was not uncommon when he was busy and with the coronation coming up he had plenty of papers to read and write. He had only seen his young lover once in the corridors and they had smiled politely at each other, as they always had done, before each carrying on their own way. And Kili seemed to have understood that although their love could no longer be physical, that did not mean he loved him any less.

Nonetheless he misses him. Telling Kili that their brief romance had come to an end had really broken his heart. He did not love him any less but to never be able to express that again with even the smallest of tokens felt devastating. And tonight, when anxiety is running through him, he wishes for nothing more than to wrap his arms around his nephew’s slender body and let his heat wash all his troubles away.

“Stop being such a love-sick old fool,” he curses himself softly as he draws his attention back to the papers that set out his ceremonial duties as king.

He is startled by a soft knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“Dwalin.”

He sighs, on the one hand in relief, but secretly there is a sense of disappointment. “Come in.” He watches his guard close the door behind him. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I came to see if all is well with Thorin Oakenshield,” his friend stares intensely at him.

“And why would it not be?” Thorin asks coolly. Dwalin is not the type to come offering words of comfort without a reason. But he is the one dwarf who knows Thorin better than anyone else.

“Why am I escorting you and Fili to _Duban_?” he asks outright. He does not do talking around the subject and he knows Thorin does not like him to either.

Thorin sighs. He might as well take this opportunity and tell him. “Take a seat and I will explain.” He relates the happenings at the forge to his friend, whose face contorts into an angry frown as the tale goes on. Thorin concludes with the spin that Fili had put on what had happened, the story that all the others have heard.

“The day after the morrow?” Dwalin checks. And Thorin nods.

“I will run an axe through them,” Dwalin growls. No-one touches his king! And certainly not some human filth from the valley.

“You will do no such thing,” Thorin narrows his eyes at him. “If I’d wanted that to happen I would have done so myself. I cannot take such a risk this close to the coronation. Our relationship with the valley-folk is fragile but stable. Now that I have decided to settle our people down here I will not risk a war with our closest neighbours. They are providers of trade and work.”

Dwalin snorts. “No-one will mourn the loss of such filth.”

“Perhaps not, but I will not risk it. Our clans are scattered, our people are vulnerable. No-one would come to our aid if the human lords decided to turn on us.”

“We could take them,” Dwalin frowns. “We are stronger than them.”

“Stronger, yes. But our numbers are lower and our warriors are old. Drop it, Dwalin. I will not have these men murdered and we will speak no more of it.”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow. Is Thorin really so naïve that he thinks that these folk will just drop the matter if he tells them to go away? But he knows better than to question the strategic decisions of his lord. “Very well,” he sighs. However, he is not going to let Thorin, his friend and his king, be mugged like an old man, waiting for his enemies like a goat waiting for the butcher. “But I will not let you just sit back and wait for them. I will seek them out for you and make sure the message gets across. You are my king and I will not see my king negotiate with thugs.”

Thorin raises an eyebrow. “And how will you do that, Dwalin son of Fundin, when I do not know who these men are or where to find them?”

“You may not know who they are but I have a good idea where I may find your challenger and his henchmen,” Dwalin says trying his best not to sound smug. Thorin should know better than to keep such matters to himself and lie to his guard. And he knows the darker secrets of the valley town better than anyone. He is the head of the royal guard. And after living here for decades he has learnt enough about each aspect of their closest neighbours including the not so sunny side. After all that is where trouble is most likely to erupt if it does. “Tomorrow,” he states, “I will sort this matter for you. And although I will spare their lives as per your order I will leave no room for interpretation.”

Thorin nods and excuses his guard, glad he has shared this burden with him and grateful for his friend’s aid.

When Dwalin opens the door he nearly bumps into Kili.

“Evening Dwalin,” the young prince smiles brightly.

“Evening Kili,” Dwalin nods and throws Thorin a brief glance over his shoulder, before he leaves the two of them to it.

“Kili,” Thorin looks up as Kili locks the door behind him. He can feel his heart make a little jump and he urges it to calm down. “Why are you not in bed yet? I will not see you forsake your duties because you deprive yourself of your rest.”

Kili just gives him the cheeky grins that he dreads as much as he loves. “I am happy to go to bed now, Thorin,” he swoons as he walks up to Thorin and throws his arms around him. “If you are?”

Thorin freezes immediately and grabs his arms, pushing them roughly away, making Kili flinch. “Kili, we agreed on this. That we would stop this. Now return to your own chambers and disturb me no more. I have much work to do still.” He turns himself around quickly as his want pulses through him. _Please go away, Kili. Please do not make this any harder for the both of us._

Kili frowns. “What do you mean?” He tries to grab hold of Thorin’s hand, but as soon as his fingers brush against him his elder whips around and grabs his wrist in a tight lock.

“Kili, we talked about this!” Thorin frowns angrily at him now, bringing his face close to Kili’s. He does not want to do this, but Kili must listen to him. “No more touching, no more kissing.” It pains him so to say this again and he almost whispers it, “And no more making love.” _Please Kili, will you just go to your room now. I cannot bear to see that look on your face. Don’t make me do this._

“You mean … never?” Slowly it dawns on him. Slowly the detail of Thorin’s midnight conversation returns to his consciousness. “You mean not even when the door is locked? … Not ever?!”

Thorin lets go of his wrist and takes a step backwards. “No Kili. It is too dangerous. It is against our laws. I am so sorry. I thought you understood.” _Now please just go._

Kili stares at him. “I thought you just meant like before. That we cannot be seen together. But no-one but Dwalin and Fili know I am here!”

He seats himself back down, staring unseeing at the papers in front of him. He cannot look at Kili. He cannot see the hurt that he knows is there. “It matters not, Kili. The risk is too great. It is wrong what I have done. I should never have …” He tentatively looks up. He should look Kili in the eye as he tells him this, as he would expect him to do in return, no matter how hard. “I really am sorry, my beloved. There will never be another at my side, I promise you this. But in this lifetime we must not repeat the mistakes that we have already made.”

Kili’s face clouds over at that. “Mistakes? So lying with me was a mistake now was it? Kissing me was a mistake?” He voice rises in volume and breaks over.

“Kili, do not raise your voice to me,” Thorin says calmly. Perhaps his choice of words was not the wisest. “I have no regrets,” he says again, trying to mitigate the damage.

Kili just stares at him blankly. The reality of what Thorin is saying has hit him in the chest like an axe blow. He had not truly understood that it was what Thorin had wanted from him when he had spoken to him a few nights ago. That they could never touch each other again. Not even kiss. Never … He can feel the tears welling up inside him.

“Kili,” Thorin tries softly as he can see the anguish spread across his sweetheart’s face. “This is for the best. You must understand. I will be King of Khagolabbad. I must abide our laws.”

Kili can feel a tear roll down his cheek and his vulnerability makes him even more angry. “You are breaking up with me?” he stutters through his tears.

“No, you are _sanumùradûnuh_ ,” Thorin says softly. He stands up and reaches out, but Kili steps back. It hurts. He wishes for Kili to understand his position but wants to cry over the hurt he is causing him. “You will always be my One.”

Kili laughs but it is a hollow laugh. His face is a mask of anguished hurt now.” Your One who has to remain your dirty secret for eternity. Your One whom you can never tell and never touch.” He steps up to his uncle, anger coiling inside him. “You are going to condemn me to a life of loneliness, a life without the loving embrace of another. This is no blessing, this is a curse!”

Thorin feels the words stab deep in his heart. He reaches out towards his nephew. He wants to sooth Kili, wants to make him understand. He wants to make it better. But he catches himself and pulls his hand back. And Kili shakes his head and spins round to the door.

Thorin is fighting every instinct to call him back. But even when the desire to shout out how much he loves Kili wins over his sensibility, the words do not form on his tongue. And before he has found his voice again Kili has unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind him.

He stares at the door. It feels like he has been staring at it for hours, motionless. Having that conversation with Kili once was awful enough. Having to have it twice is tearing him to shreds. And Kili’s words have ripped his heart apart. He cannot deal with the hurt he has caused his lover. He cannot deal with the thought of never seeing that scowl of anger and disappointment turn into a picture of love and heat for him again.

_Nonsense. You are the Durin King. He will get over it and so will you. You have always known that love may not happen for you in this lifetime. You have always dealt with it and you can again. Until you are reunited in Mahal’s Halls._

But how long will that be? Dwarves easily live until their mid third century. And that average is brought down considerably by the losses of war. In peacetime his people have known to reach ages as high as their mid fourth century. He has only just passed the midpoint of his second century. And Kili has not even reached his fiftieth year. Kili’s words may have been spoken in anger but they carry a chilling truth. _Mahal, my Lord, why did it have to be him? I will accept a life without love if so is your judgement. But does Kili have to suffer the same fate?_

He pushes his papers angrily away from him. He has made his decision and he is not going to come back on it. Having doubts is only making this whole thing ten times harder. And he is not going to let his cock rule his head like some barely-of-age dwarfling. This is the right thing to do and no more will be said about it. He needs to focus on the coronation and his responsibilities as king. And Kili needs to focus on his own tasks. They do not need to be intimate to know that they love each other. There is so much more to loving someone than bedding them.

He just hopes that his fiery nephew will soon forget his hurt and his anger and come round to seeing his point. For both their sake.

***

When he drops Thorin and Fili off at the forge, like he has every morning for the past few days, Dwalin wishes them a prosperous trading day. Before he excuses himself. Thorin clasps his forearm. _Be careful_ , he signs in iglishmêk. And Dwalin nods.

He has not been to this part of town for a long while. But in the early days, after they had just moved to this area, he had spent many evenings frequenting the taverns here. Men were no different than dwarves in that respect. If you wanted to hear the best gossip you had to come to the roughest part of town, where the men were easy with their money and the women easy with their bodies and both were easy with their tongue.

There are two taverns that he has an eye on. But he decides to chance the first one on his path.

As he pushes to door to the alehouse open the smell of the stale beer that the valley-men brew hits him in the face. It takes his eyes but a second to adjust to the dingy interior before they glance around the room. There are few customers, although more than one should expect to see at this time in the day. He snorts at the laziness of mankind. You would not see a dwarf in a tavern before they have earned their gold that day. Even the lowest class would choose work over wastage.

Thorin’s description has been clear enough. And he has a good idea who is looking for. As his eyes scan the far right corner he spots them. Ryle and his buddies. The main man is nasty piece of work, much like his father was before him. The rest are a good for nothing bunch of misfits that seem to waste their lives away between ale and whorehouses, paid for with money no doubt earned in a dishonourable way. It cannot be a coincidence. They match Thorin’s description perfectly.

Dwalin walks up to the barman and hands him a small bag. “A little privacy,” he grumbles.

He knows the guy and he knows that he can be bought easily enough. He had paid him for information before and he had always been very helpful as soon as a pouch of gold was pushed his way.

The barman weighs the bag in his hand and nods before he yanks the last orders bell. “Closing up for a bit, everyone drink up,” he shouts, drawing protests from around the room. Dwalin nods in thanks and orders a pint with him.

As Ryle is about to get up, Dwalin walks over and despite being a couple of feet shorter, he pushes him back into his seat with ease. “Not you, buddy,” he grins. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

Ryles narrows his eyes and then laughs. “Hello _dwarf_ ,” he spits as if it is the greatest insult in the world. “And why do you think I want to talk to you?”

Dwalin leans over him, bringing his face close. He can sense the others behind him closing in on him, but he quickly reaches behind him and brings one of them face to face with him, holding him in a tight lock around his neck. “Call your men off or I will do it for you,” he growls at Ryle. “And they won’t look so good afterwards, I promise you that.”

The blond in his grip squeals as his breath is cut off and he digs his nails into Dwalin’s arms in vain.

Ryle smirks but he nods nonetheless. “Easy boys,” he says. “Let’s hear what our friend here has to say for himself. It might be something interesting.”

The tavern has emptied now and the barman has locked the door. Ryle points to a seat but Dwalin remains standing, preferring both the advantage of height over his seated enemy and the freedom to swirl round should he need to.

“Suit yourself, dwarf,” Ryle smirks. “Now this better be good what you have to say. Interrupting my day like this.”

Dwalin laughs. “Your day doing what, you filth? Drinking yourself into oblivion before you decide to mug one poor soul or another? Your mother must be so proud of you.” Ryle attempts to rise up at the insult, but Dwalin pushed him firmly back down in his seat. “Now you listen to me, Ryle, and you better listen good.”

The man’s features shift just a little at the realisation that this fierce looking dwarf knows his name.

“Oh yes, Ryle, I know who you are and I knew your father too. I see the rotten apple did not fall far from the tree. But at least your father had some sense about him. Did he never teach you not to mess with the dwarves of Azsâlul'abad?”

“Just tell me why you are here,” Ryle growls.

“I am here to tell you just that, “Dwalin brings his face right up close to Ryle. “That you should think twice before you challenge my king again. Because it is only because of his mercy that I am not feeding your guts to the pigs today. Now you had best forget your little scheme real quick. Because if I ever catch you within even a yard of Thorin Oakenshield or his kin again, I will make you choke on your own cock. Am I clear?”

Ryle just grins an evil grin at him, at which Dwalin pulls a knife quicker than any of the others can react against his throat. “Do not tempt me, filth! Do not think for one minute you have anything on him. Whatever you think you heard, no-one would believe your word against his. Do you really want to risk a war between your people and mine for insulting the new King of Ered Luin? Do you think you and your simple buddies here are ready to face a dwarven army?”

 

He presses the knife just a little harder against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “Only by his grace do you still have your balls,” he hisses again, before he pulls his knife back.

Ryle rubs his hand across his throat, looking at the sticky blood on his fingers. “Fine,” he growls. “But you had best tell the red-headed scribe he needs to learn to hold his tongue.”

Dwalin narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Ryle smirks. “Let’s just say that he was quick to offer up some very interesting information about you dwarves when we asked him nicely.”

Dwalin punches him hard in the face, making the man spit blood and one of his few remaining teeth. “Stay away from my people,” he hisses. As he turns around he finds the three others have risen to their feet and are looming over him, hatred and threat painted across their features as they too have drawn their weapons.

But Dwalin smiles. “Ah, I see the lesson hasn’t quite gotten through to you dimwits.” In a flash of steel he lashes out and a moment later the tallest one hits the table with a thud, screaming like the dying scream of a pig as his hands fly towards his crotch which is quickly becoming soaked in blood. “I only promised my king I would not kill you. So you had best find him a medic quick to help me keep my promise.”

He does not even need to push the others out of his way as they scatter before him as he storms out of the tavern.

He spends the rest of the day walking through the valley town, listening to the latest news and checking out their defences. When the sun starts to sink towards the horizon, he slowly walks back towards the forge.

Thorin does not say anything but silently raises the question.

“You should find no more trouble in this town, _thanu men.”_

“ _Âkminrûk_ _zu, nadaduh hurmul_ ,” Thorin nods.  He has faith in Dwalin’s words. He has to focus on his duties as king now and having had this matter taken care of is at least one worry off his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanu men = my king  
> Âkminrûk zu = Thank you  
> nadaduh hurmul = my honourable brother. Like a brother in arms rather than a blood brother.


	9. Star-Crossed Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in part 2 - hope you will follow me onto part 3 :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB. I have tidied this up as the publishing from my phone was a little messy.
> 
> With thanks to witchesdelite for letting me steal Dis' nickname for Kili from her fic Second Chance as I love it so much!

Fili did not work in the forge with him the day after – as he had decreed. Dwalin joined him in the forge instead, just in case the message had not got through. But there was no trouble. No-one showed up that night to demand the five hundred silver coins in exchange for silence. And it appeared that Dwalin had brought the matter to conclusion as he had promised. Thorin felt relief. He did not fear these men. But he feared for the love of his life and what his own people would do to him if they found out his sin.

That evening, now that the extortion burden has been removed, he decides to have dinner with his sister and her sons. He has not done so since he received the beating and he has not seen Kili since he had stormed out of his rooms. 

Dis gives him a curt smile as he turns up at the dining table. They sit in silence until the boys turn up. Their relationship has remained strained since she had first learnt about him courting her son and Thorin is in no mood for another lecture from his younger sister.

Fili is next to show his face and he quietly takes his seat opposite Thorin, staring quietly at his plate.

“Where is Kili?” Dis asks, before Thorin has a chance to open his mouth.

“He is not hungry,” Fili mumbles.

“Go and tell him he is to join us. He has not been excused,” Thorin says sternly.

Fili looks up to Dis who nods in agreement with Thorin’s statement. He stifles a sigh and gets back up, disappearing back towards his quarters.

Dis looks at Thorin but he is ignoring her gaze, regretting already his decision to join his kin tonight.

When Fili appears again his brother is not at his side. “He says he does not want to join us,” he says quietly, shuffling his feet, expecting to be sent away again.

“Why not?” Dis asks, glancing between Fili and Thorin, who seems less surprised.

“He … he said he does not want to see you, uncle,” Fili whispers, not daring to gaze at Thorin.

Dis’ head snaps to her brother’s. “What have you done?”

“The right thing,” Thorin says quietly, slowly looking up and giving his sister a cold look.

Dis scowls and then shoves her chair back hard. She storms out of the dining room, brushing past a stunned Fili and towards he sons’ bedchambers.

“Go away, Fili! I am not coming to dinner!” Kili calls out as she knocks on the door. She slowly pushes the heavy door open. Her son is lying on his bed, his face buried in the furs and his back to the doorway. She quietly walks over to him and sits down on the bed next to him. Her hand reaches out and begins to stroke his back. She has not comforted her son like this since he became of age. It is no longer appropriate. He is a buck now and her responsibility as his mother has officially come to an end. But Dis does not care about such custom. Kili is and will always be her blood, the child she had carried in her belly and raised for forty years. And her son is upset and he needs her right now.

“What is the matter, little raven?” she asks softly.

Kili stills under her touch. “‘amad?”

“I am here, my sweet one. Why are you not joining us tonight? What has my brother done this time?”

Kili slowly turns himself around. His eyes are red and puffy. “He does not love me anymore,” he hiccups in a sob.

Dis runs the back of her hand along he son’s cheek, brushing his hair out of his face. “Why do you say this, little one?”

“Because he said we can never be together again. That he will never accept my touch again. That he will never kiss me again.”

Dis sighs. So this is her brother’s idea of the right thing. “Oh little one, come here.” She pulls her youngest up and against her bosom, stroking his hair and back as she gently rocks him. And Kili wraps his arms around her in a desperate need for comfort. His tears are running freely now and his body is jolting under his pained sobs. “Hush little one, it is okay,” Dis sooths. “It will all be okay.”

They sit like this for a long while, until Kili’s tears run dry and his throat feel thick. Slowly Dis pushes him upright, brushing the wet strands of wild hair out of his face again. She tilts up his chin. “I know it hurts right now, my sweet one. But this is for the best. Your heartache will go, little Kee, and make room for another.”

Kili shakes his head wildly. “No, ‘amad, I can’t! I can never love another.”

“Oh little raven, it may feel like that right now. Like there will never be another. But there will be. You are so young still. Your heart will heal. You are a Durin prince, you can choose from whoever you want.”

“You don’t understand!” Kili sobs. “I cannot choose whomever I want. I want Thorin. He is sanumùradûnuh. There will never be another for me.”

“My sweet one, you cannot think that. Soulmates are not granted to us in this lifetime. Not to someone as young as you. Mahal will bless …”

“Mahal did not bless me! He cursed me,” Kili scowls. “Thorin is sanumùradûnuh. Mahal told me himself, during the fire ritual. And I know he is, in my heart and soul, mother. I know you think of me as a silly love-sick dwarfling. But of this I am absolutely sure. He is part of my very being, ‘amad. He is my everything. He ... he was my first and he will be my last ..,” he whispers, sobbing again.

Dis can feel the anger at her brother run through her. “My sweet sweet little Kee,” she pulls Kili in her arms again. “I am so sorry that my brother has wronged you. He should never have touched you like that.”

But Kili shakes his head. “It could only have been him. From the moment I was able to court it could only have been him.” He blushes. “I loved him for courting me, ‘amad, this you must believe. Better to be loved once, than never. But I do not understand why he denies me now? Why will he not allow me to love him, knowing there can never be another for either of us? How is that even fair, ‘amad? Why has this happened? I did not ask for this!”

Dis stares at her son. “Are you sure? Are you really sure that he is your One?” Kili nods solemnly and she knows it is the truth. When Kili and Thorin had first told her the soulmate story she had dismissed it as an excuse for their indecent behaviour, a fantasy of a young buck in love with his uncle. But there is no doubt in Kili’s eyes. Can Mahal really be so cruel? To bless him with that which he can never have? “Oh my baby,” she takes Kili in her arms again. “It will all be okay.”

“How, ‘amad? How will it be okay? I will never know love again. Centuries of loneliness lie ahead of me. How is that going to be okay?”

_I don’t know, my little one. I have no answers to this. I feel your pain and your confusion and I am powerless to do anything about it._

When she finally returns to the dining room Thorin has already disappeared. “Where is he?” she frowns at Fili who is sat on his own at the large dining table, stabbing absentmindedly at his food.

“He said he had work to finish,” Fili says softly, wishing that his family would leave him out of this argument.

Dis snorts and strides towards her brother’s chambers. As she throws open the door, Thorin looks up calmly. He had expected his sister to come storming up to him; her temper is as predictable as his own. She slams the door behind her and strides over, her head held high in defiance. “How is that the right thing, Thorin?!” she growls at her brother.

“I thought it is what you wanted,” Thorin says calmly. “That you did not want me near him again.”

Dis laughs. “What I wanted you to do you choose to ignore a long time ago, brother. How are you such an intelligent and inspirational leader and yet are so utterly dim-witted when it comes to love? To take my son’s virginity and then to shove him aside like a common whore is not the right bloody thing, Thorin!” she spits.

Thorin stares at her, feeling helpless. “Then what will you have me do, sister?”

Dis raises an eyebrow. “You ask me for advice now?” she mocks. “Now that you have already taken what was his most precious gift to give?! You have got to be jesting, Thorin!”

“I am not!” Thorin roars suddenly in frustration, slamming his fist on the table. “I understand that you defend him. He is your son and I expect no less. I know I should not have lain with him. Hate me all you like, Dis. But know that I did not just bed Kili out of lust. You know me better than that. I have never sought such desires before. I have spent my entire life denying myself the love that others offered me so freely. He is my first and my only love too! When he gave me his gift, I gave him mine. I never set out to hurt him, to deny him anything. I have tried to love him and was told I was doing wrong. I have tried to keep him safe by distancing myself, and I am still doing wrong. I would accept a life without love for myself if that would allow him his happiness. But it does not. We cannot be together and we cannot be apart. If we are together we risk our mortal lives, if we are apart we risk our eternal souls. Now tell me what I should do because I do not know anymore!”

Dis looks at Thorin in surprise as a tear rolls down his cheek into his dark beard. She has not seen her brother cry since they lost Frerin.

“All I want is for Kili to be happy,” he tries to hold back a sob. “Because I love him, Dis. It may be wrong, but I do. I love him more than I have ever loved anything in my life. He is my soulmate, my One, my heart and soul. I would give him everything I have if that would make things better. I would gladly give my life for him if it allowed him his happiness. All I can do now is to make sure he is safe. It may break his heart, but I choose that over it stopping from beating altogether.” He sinks back into his chair and buries his face in his hands, the tears rolling between his fingers.

Slowly Dis walks over before she lays an arm around her brother’s shoulder. How has she found herself in this position, between these two star-crossed lovers that are both closest to her heart. “Send him away,” she whispers softly.

Thorin looks up, wiping angrily at the tears that he does not want her to see.

“You both need some space. After the coronation, send him to the Southern Mountains. Send a messenger to Lord Suthri and tell him the youngest prince of Durin will be joining his court for a while to learn more about the southern faction. Let him choose his own company, give him responsibilities and a meaningful task to accomplish. It will do him good, Thorin, to be away from here. Away from you. And it will give you both time to think.”

Thorin considers this for a moment and then nods slowly. Then he takes his sister’s hand, afraid she may pull it away, but she doesn’t. “Thank you.”

Dis frowns. But then she wraps her arms around her brother and leans her forehead against his as she tenderly wipes his tears away. “You stupid stubborn dwarf,” he growls softly. “Both of you!”

***

The coronation ceremony should be one of the happiest days of his life. Even if it is not the throne of Azsâlul'abad he will be seated on, to rule from the throne of Khagolabbad holds no shame. He will be king of Durin’s folk and will have provided his people with a safe haven. Lord Dain has sent acknowledgment of his rulership in the name of the Iron Mountains’ faction and so has Lord Suthri on behalf of the dwarves of the Southern Blue Mountains. They have pledged their loyalty to his sovereignty. 

But as his attendants help him in to his ceremonial robes he cannot deny the sadness that overrules everything else. Kili has not spoken to him for nearly two weeks now. He has chosen to have dinner with the other dwarves in the great dining hall, rather than in private with his kin. And Fili had soon followed him, leaving Dis and Thorin to stare at each other in silence every night, neither knowing what else could be said. On the odd occasion that he had seen Kili in the halls, the younger dwarf had quickly turned on his heels and walked the other way.

He should be at his side today. Kili should be getting dressed in the robes of his consort. He should be showing him off to the entire kingdom as his One. Instead Kili will be expected to kneel before him in service like any other courtier. And he dreads that moment more than anything else.

The ceremony, as they all do, commences in the temple. He complies with each requirement, utters each well practiced phrase and places the offerings as expected. But he cannot help the feeling of betrayal when he kneels before Mahal. “Mightiest Lord, Father of all Fathers, I ask for Your blessing on this day of honour.” _Why is he to be mine when he cannot be?_ “I vow that my axe will always swing in Your name.” _Why do you see him hurt like that? If he cannot be at my side, let him be with another._ “I vow that my hammer will only ever fall in Your honour.” _I love him, but I cannot bear to see his hurt. Please my Lord, have mercy._ “May Your eternal light guide me to make my decisions with wisdom and rule my people with a strong heart.” _How can my heart be strong when it bleeds for him?_ “And may I bring honour to You in all my endeavours until You call me to kneel before Your throne.” _Please take away this curse. Please let him have the love he deserves._

 _You will give him the love he deserves._ He whips his head around. Did anyone else just hear that? Or was that just his own perverted desire speaking to him again?

Gorm smiles in satisfaction and helps him to his feet. “My Lord,” he bows, “Mahal has blessed you. Hail King Thorin, son of Durin!”

The ceremony in the Throne Room, restored and glorified especially in his honour, is no less tedious. Again he is asked to repeat practiced words and motions as he says his vows to the factions and promises service to his people. But the task is made a lot more difficult by his nephew, his love, standing in front of the throne, next to his brother. Fili looks solemn and proud as the heavy crown is placed on Thorin’s head and the sceptre – not the original one lost to the dragon, but a new one forged for Thorin in its mirror image - is given to him. But Kili’s face is one full of sadness and betrayal.

***

He had managed to avoid Thorin for almost two weeks. But he had known all along he couldn't not attend his coronation. He does his best to hold his mask in place, but he knows Thorin can see right through it. When he is required to offer his congratulations to the new king he does so through gritted teeth, kneeling before Thorin’s throne as required and kissing his ring in respect. He wants to shout a childish response at him, something along the lines of _Is it okay for me to kiss your hand, my king, or is that a mistake too?_  Instead he holds his dignity as an adult and a prince. However, he does not look at Thorin’s eyes. He wants to throw him daggers of hatred, But he knows if he were to look in those grey blue eyes he would melt into a puddle of compliant idiocy again. He does not want Thorin to see his weakness, to see his hurt and his desperation. That if he would but give him a sign he would fly back into his arms again, all hurt forgiven and forgotten because his need for Thorin’s love is so much greater than his anger. So he keeps his eyes downcast and as soon as opportunity allows he leaves the throne room, with Fili hot on his heels.

“Go back, Fili,” he growls over his shoulder. “You should be there. You should join in the celebrations. You are his heir.”

Fili grabs his arms and spins him around. “As should you.” Softly he whispers, only for Kili to hear, although there is no-one out in the halls. “You are his One.”

Kili’s hand lashes out before he realises what he is about to do. It is all the built up anger and frustration and hurt and hearing his brother say what can never be said out loud is the final straw after all of today's tension. Fili stares at him as the handprint pulses in his cheek and slowly his hand moves up to touch the angry imprint. They had fought oft enough when they were younger. But Kili has never raised his hand like that at him before. “I am sorry,” he mumbles, blushing. And then the tears come again. It seems the harder he fights them the more they come.

“Oh Kee,” Fili sighs, grabbing his brother’s hand. “Come, let’s go for a walk.”

They walk out of the mountain fortress until the fresh breeze of the mountains whips around their heads. He knows exactly where to go. Their place, their secret hideaway where they had spent so many childhood afternoons when they were hiding from Dis or Thorin or generally from duties they were required to complete. It is a secluded little glade with no real access other than a steep climb and a bit of bum shuffling down the last bit of the slope. Not really the sort of place the two princes should be hanging out, but who cares! They have not been here for years. And it feels strangely sentimental as they sit down under the large pine tree in which they once carved their runes.

“You cannot be angry with him forever, brother,” he says softly.

Kili stares into the cool water and throws another stone, watching the ripples widen until eventually they disappear. “I am not angry,” he lies.

“Then what?” Fili tries. “Talk to me, Kee.”

“To what avail?” Kili snorts. “You know what is the matter. I am in love with Thorin and I can never be with him. I can never lie with another so I will just have to be alone for the rest of my life. What else is there to say? How much more do you want me to spell my heartache out for you?”

Fili says nothing. He knows his brother is hurt and he does not mean to take it out on him. And he is right; there is no solution he can offer to the situation either.

“I am sorry,” Kili sighs in the end. Then he whispers, almost inaudibly, “I ... I just want to die, Fee. I want to move to Mahal’s Hall and wait for him there. Until he joins me in eternity.”

Fili freezes. “Please don’t say that, Kili. Please don’t leave me here without you. I ... I need you.”

Kili looks up. “You are the only reason why I haven’t yet. I have thought it about it though. I have stood with the berries of the yew tree in my hand and I was ready for it.” He looks at Fili again and takes his hand. “And then I thought of you. I don’t want to hurt you. You don’t deserve to suffer because of what Thorin and I have done.”

“Neither do you,” Fili whispers, drawing his brother closer and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You deserve to be happy with him. It kills me that you are thinking about taking your own life because you cannot be with him in this one.”

***

The assignment comes as a complete surprise but he is most grateful for it. Balin goes over the instructions with him once more, explaining in detail his duties at Lord Suthri’s court and his responsibilities as a Prince of Durin and direct representative of Thorin. Kili nods impatiently. He is not stupid and he does not need Balin to tell him everything twice. He just wants to go. But a moon cycle ago he would have cried if he had been told he would be away from Thorin for three months. Now it is the best thing that could have happened to him. He has already chosen his men, some experienced ones and some younger warriors. His attendants too will travel with him as befits one of the royal house. He cannot wait. To be travelling and to be away from all his sorrow. Anything to get his mind off Thorin, whom he still has not spoken to since he had had turned him away so coldly.

He has said his goodbyes to his mother and to Fili. He will miss his brother greatly. But he knows it will be good for him to be away from under his protective wing. To prove his worth as a prince and warrior lord. To be his own man.

He leaves Balin’s chamber and heads straight for the library. He knows this is his best and only chance. He does not know what he is looking for anymore. What he is trying to achieve. But his curiosity has gotten the better of him and whether it will help his situation or not he now wants to know what it written in the scrolls.

“Thank you, my friend,” he smiles at Ori. The scribe had painstakingly copied the scrolls that he had selected, rune by rune.

Ori nods shyly. He would have done it anyway for Kili. But there is a deep guilt that lies across his shoulders that has made him work until deep into the night to get the task finished. A guilt amplified and confirmed when Dwalin had given him a one-off warning, that if he ever found out that he had spoken to anyone in the valley about their sacred rites and customs and rituals again he would bash him around the head with every scroll and book in the library. He knows this simple task will not make up for his betrayal. Even though he is still unsure exactly what harm has come from his blabbermouth, he knows he has done wrong. And this is the best he can do to relief some of his guilt. To show the House of Durin his honour and service. “ _Mahzirikhi zu gang ghukhil_ ,” he says softly.

Kili does not see Thorin before he leaves. He has done his very best to avoid him and he is relieved when they finally set off. He cannot go through that again. He cannot keep torturing himself or he really will lose his wits.

And as their ponies set off on the road he secretly thinks this may actually be the last time he ever sees the old fortress, now baptised as Thorin’s Halls. That perhaps he might decide to stay in the Southern Mountains at the end of his assignment or even travel on from there. And it offers a strange combination of relief and sadness as his childhood slowly disappears from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mahzirikhi zu gang ghukhil = I wish you a safe journey

**Author's Note:**

> NB. I have tried to make this story as much submurged in the world of the khazad as I can. Therefore all place names are khuzdul rather than sindarin as they are in The Hobbit and LoTR. Please refer to the appendix for reference.


End file.
